THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF. CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


THE  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES 
OF  A  FREE  LANCE 


Being  the  Observations  of 


S.  G.  W.  BENJAMIN 

Late  United  States  Minister  to  Persia 
Author,  Artist  and  Journalist 


Burlington,  Vt. 

Free  Press  Company 

1914 


^A  I^O^SS' 


BOOKS  BY  S.  G.  W.  BENJAMIN. 

Constantinople,  the  Isle  of  Pearls. 
Ode  on  the  Death  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 
The  Turk  and  the  Greek. 
Tom  Roper. 
What  is  Art? 

The  Atlantic  Islands.     Pub.  in  London. 
Art  in  America. 
Our  American  Artists. 
The  Multitudinous  Seas. 
The  World's  Paradise. 

Troy  in  Legend,  Literature  and  Topography. 
A  Group  of  Etchers. 
The  Cruise  of  the  Alice  May. 
Sea  Spray. 

Persia  and  the  Persians. 
The  Story  of  Persia. 

{Translated  into  East  Indian  Dialects  and  Published,  Neiv  York, 
London,  Bombay). 


Copyrighted,  1914,  by  Free  Press  Co. 


INTRODUCTION. 

Anyone  who  writes  his  autobiography  must  be  pre- 
pared to  meet  the  charge  of  egotism.  But  so  many,  es- 
pecially in  recent  years,  have  written  the  record  of  their 
lives,  that  the  author  finds  himself  in  good  company 
and  needs  to  make  no  apology. 

Aside  from  the  pleasure  of  going  over  the  scenes  of  his 
life,  the  author  had  two  or  three  specific  objects  in  view 
when  he  began  to  write  these  pages. 

One  was  to  indicate  some  of  the  characteristics  of 
races  in  Europe,  greatly  differing  from  our  own,  es- 
pecially the  Oriental,  who  is  so  often  misjudged. 

In  war  or  peace  the  personal  traits  of  a  people,  to- 
gether with  environment,  gives  a  trend  to  great  national 
movements,  and  it  is  only  fair  to  judge  such  outcome 
througli  that  impartial  vision  which  comes  only  from  an 
all-around  knowledge. 

Another  subject  the  author  had  hoped  to  have  treated 
more  at  length  was  the  history  and  methods  of  early  mis- 
sionary work  in  the  Levant,  with  some  analysis  of  char- 
acters met  there,  but  lack  of  space  crowds  out  much  in- 
teresting material  at  hand  on  this   and  other  matters. 

Another  subject  was  a  description  of  life  in  one  of  our 
country  colleges  during  the  fifties.  This  also  it  seemed 
necessary  to  abbreviate,  as  also  a  description  of  shipping 
and  life  at  sea,  before  steam  and  other  modern  inventions 
affected  the  character  of  sailing;  vessels  and  sail  naviga- 


M3100f76 


tion.  This  subject  has  been  chiefly  illustrated  by  the 
writer's  somewhat  varied  personal  experience  and  obser- 
vation from  childhood  up  to  recent  years.  Personal  ex- 
periences in  the  world  of  art,  are  also  touched  upon, 
among  other  topics.  The  reader  who  cares  not  for  any 
or  all  of  these  subjects  is  hereby  warned! 

The  greatest  difficulty  encountered  in  preparing  this 
record  has  been  to  keep  within  the  limits  attractive  to 
the  modern  reader,  in  this  country,  and  in  this  age  of 
hurry  and  hustle.  For  the  memory  of  the  authoV  serves 
him  so  well  that  he  could  have  quadrupled  the  length  of 
this  work  with  the  utmost  ease ;  and  added  episodes  which, 
for  various  reasons,  it  was  found  expedient  to  omit. 

S.  G.  W.  B. 


EDITOR'S   PREFACE. 

The  author  of  Lorna  Doone  writes  in  his  introduction 
to  this  charming  work,  "I  call  this  a  Romance,  because 
incidents,  scenery,  time,  and  characters,  are  all  romantic." 
With  this  definition,  from  so  good  an  authority,  we  may 
properly,  I  think,  call  this  little  book  "a  romance,"  and 
trust  that  the  readers  who  do  not  like  Memoirs  will  find 
unfailing  attraction  in  these  memories  of  a  life  full  of 
adventure. 

Our  author  owes  to  his  childhood  in  Greece  (and  also 
perhaps  to  pre-natal  influences  in  an  atmosphere  of  Hel- 
lenic culture  and  beauty)  his  enthusiastic  love  of  the 
beautiful.  The  influence  of  the  scenery,  characters  and 
incidents  of  much  of  his  life,  tended  to  increase  this  roman- 
tic spirit  within  him,  which  was  by  Nature,  that  of  the 
knight,  paladin,  and  poet. 

To  paint,  to  write,  or  to  work  solely  for  fortune  or 
fame,  ever  stirred  him  to  indignant  protest.  He  loved 
things  noble,  free  and  untrammeled. 

It  is  expected  of  most  authors  and  artists  that  their 
"experiences"  will  be  confined  to  literature  and  art,  and 
it  is  quite  unusual  that  they  should  include  also  those 
of  yachting  and  diplomacy. 

Having  crossed  the  seas  some  forty-five  times,  loving 
the  sea  and  all  sea-craft  with  the  love  of  a  sailor,  Mr. 
Benjamin  had  learned  its  multitudinous  wave- forms  which 
he  so  vividly  depicted  in  print  and  on  canvas. 


As  a  boy  he  spoke  several  languages,  and  had  amused 
himself  when  not  at  out  door  sport  by  sketching  charac- 
teristics of  different  peoples  and  customs ;  later,  while 
residing  more  than  half  his  life  abroad,  he  had  studied  the 
personal  character  of  different  peoples,  and  the  trend  of 
their  national  life.  All  this  was  of  service  to  him  in 
the  diplomatic  experience  which  came  afterward.  Es- 
pecially did  his  long  sojourn  in  the  Levant  give  him  an 
acquaintance  with  the  mysterious  Oriental,  and  an  appre- 
hension of  that  "viewpoint  of  the  East,"  which  we  of  the 
West,  with  all  our  conceit  of  wisdom  so  fail  to  appreciate. 

In  mature  years  he  was  called  to  fill  the  place  of  con- 
sul general  to  Persia,  and  later  on,  was  appointed  by 
President  Arthur,  U.  S.  minister,  to  establish  a  legation 
there.  His  mind  naturally  penetrating  and  astute  had 
already  gained  an  insight  into  the  true  status  of  the 
powers,  especially  in  the  East_,  and  all  these  varied  life- 
influences  had  given  to  his  soul  a  strange  maturity  that 
led  at  last  toward  the  deeper  perception  of  the  Supreme 
and  all  compelling  Power  that  moves  nations  as  well  as 
individuals   toward   their  allotted   goal. 

Fannie  N.  Benjamin,  Nov.  16th,  1914. 


CONTENTS 
Chapter                                                                                   Page 
Poem 9 

I.  x\rgos   and   Athens    11 

II.  From  Trebizond  to  America  42 

III.  Smyrna   and   Earthquakes    67 

IV.  Constantinople    102 

Poem 133 

V.  College  Life   135 

VI.  College  Vacations,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  and 

Dr.   Hopkins    153 

VII.  Episodes  of  Teaching  and  Life  at  Albany 169 

VIII.  Early  Marriage  and  return  to  the  Levant 193 

Poem,  The  Agnostic's  Creed   213 

IX.  Madeira    216 

X.  From  the  \Miite  House  to  the  Bahamas 242 

XL         Paris  and  Portugal    267 

XII.  Boston  and  a  Trip  to  Cuba 287 

Poem,  The  Sailor's  Fate 309 

XIII.  New  York  Art  Life 311 

XIV.  Marriage  and  a  Cruise 333 

XV.  Incidents  of  Life  in  Persia   353 

XVI.  Society  and  Diplomacy    378 

XVII.  Homeward  Bound  410 

Poem,  A  Vision  of  Eternity    425 

List  of  Paintings  by  S.  G.  W.  Benjamin 428 


CHILDHOOD 

PART  I 

There  is  a  shore 

The  sun  of  morning  gilds 

And,  hallows,  ever  more 

Where  Hope  her  castle  builds 

And  jocund  Spring  a  harvest  yields 

Of  amarinthine  flozcers 

Upon  Elysian  fields. 

Oh  Land  of  gleams! 
Where  only  youth  can  tread 
Ensh'ied  thou  art,  rcith  dreams. 
Thine  hours,  like  magic  sped; 

Oh  Land  of  song  and  joyous  hells! 
With  thee,  we  zcalk  the  Elysian  fields. 

And  hear  no  sad  farewells! 

S.  G.  W.  B. 


Selection  frovi  a  poem  tvrittcn  for 
a  "Kappa  Alpha"  reunion,  Williams 
College,  1S80. 


CHAPTER   I. 


ARGOS  AND  ATHENS. 


The  City  of  Argos,  on  the  southeastern  coast  of  Greece, 
is  reputed  to  be,  after  Damascus,  the  oldest  city  in  the 
world.  My  parents  were  missionaries  at  that  place  when  I , 
was  born  there  in  the  year  1837.  They  sailed  for  the  Medi- 
terranean in  1836,  taking  passage  at  Boston  in  the  schoon- 
er Sea  Eagle,  Captain  Drew.  The  schooner  was  bound 
to  Smyrna,  and  being  over-sparred,  the  provisions  and 
water  very  bad,  the  captain  surly,  and  the  weather  tem- 
pestuous, the  voyage  was  exceedingly  unpleasant,  even 
for  those  days  of  primitive  ocean  travel.  My  parents 
made  their  devious  way  from  Smyrna  to  Athens  in  a  Greek 
vessel  and  thence,  in  a  coaster,  to  Argos.  Steam  packets 
were  hardly  seen  or  known  in  those  days. 

My  father  was  descended  from  John  Benjamin ,  Gen- 
tleman, as  he  is  styled  in  the  old  records,  who  was  one 
of  the  first  settlers  of  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  coming 
over  in  1632.  ]\Iy  grandfather  Benjamin  was  a  paper 
manufacturer  at  Catskill,  New  York,  one  of  the  first  in 
the  United  States,  and  fought  at  Bennington.  ]My  grand- 
mother Benjamin  was  the  daughter  of  Captain  Charles 
Seymour  of  Hartford,  Connecticut,  who  fought  in  Wash- 
ington's army.    My  mother  was  Mary  Gladding  Wheeler, 

11 


daughter  of  Samuel  Green  Wheeler,  one  of  the  old  mer- 
chants and  manufacturers  of  New  York  (mentioned  in 
Barret's  work),  and  elder  in  the  Rutgers  Street  Church  of 
which  the  celebrated  Dr.  Macauley  was  pastor. 

When  I  was  thirteen  months  old  my  father  was  directed 
to  remove  to  Athens.  Passage  was  engaged  on  a  Greek 
brig  sailing  from  Napolidi  Romania,  but  she  went  on  the 
rocks  in  a  night  squall.  Escaping  these  perils  we  finally 
reached  Athens,  safely,  where  my  parents  lived  six  years. 
That  most  attractive  city  had  just  been  made  capital  of 
the  newly  liberated  country ;  and  the  court  of  King  Otho, 
the  Bavarian,  and  his  handsome  Queen  Amalia,  though 
^yet  still  crude,  attracted  characters  of  every  description, 
chief  tans,  heroes,  and  adventurers  of  the  recent  war  of 
revolution  in  search  of  office,  Philhellenes  of  every  Euro- 
pean nation,  who  had  lent  their  swords  and  their  purses 
in  aid  of  the  war  for  freedom ;  many  of  them  men  of  cul- 
ture, title  and  distinction,  diplomats  accredited  to  Greece, 
travellers  fired  by  the  romantic  strophes  and  the  volcanic 
career  of  Lord  Byron,  scholars,  artists,  poets— all  gathered 
alike  to  the  ancient  classic  city,  now  about  to  renew  its 
youth,  and  to  reenter  on  a  career  of  glory,  as  was  fondly 
hoped.  In  a  word,  the  splendor  of  a  new  era  seemed  burst- 
ing over  all  the  ruins  of  the  Acropolis,  although  few  real- 
ized that  the  results  were  to  ripen  but  slowly  after  such 
ages  of  oppression. 

I  look  back  to  our  residence  at  Athens  with  unalloyed 
satisfaction.  Owing  to  the  distance  of  time  it  is  still  in- 
vested with  a  roseate  haze,  like  that  which  hangs  over  a 
summer  landscape  when  the  morning  light's  tender  glow 
is  first  breaking  over  mountain,  forest  and  stream. 
Through  this  veil,  objects,  scenes,  faces,  are  discerned  here 

12 


and  there,  some  vaguely,  others  with  perfect  distinctness, 
according  to  the  impression  they  made  upon  my  young 
mind.  ]My  memory  dates  back  to  an  early  period,  and 
retains  vividly  many  incidents  that  would  scarcely  attract 
the  attention  of  most  children.  That  was  due  very  large- 
ly to  the  fact  that  at  that  time  I  had  but  few  playfellows 
of  my  own  age,  except  at  rare  intervals,  as  my  parents 
seldom  allowed  me  to  associate,  until  later,  with  the  Greek 
children,  and  there  were  no  other  American  children  then 
living  in  Athens  except  two  or  three  little  girls,  the 
daughters  of  Dr.  Jonas  King  and  his  Greek  wife,  and  Ion 
Hanford  Perdicaris,  noted  lately  as  a  captive  to  Moor- 
ish brigands.  Occasionally,  I  met  a  few  English  lads  in 
a  formal  way.  It  is  true  that  in  my  seventh  year  I  at- 
tended the  Missionary  school  for  Greeks  in  order  to  learn 
how  to  read  and  write  Greek.  But  I  did  not  remain  there 
long;  it  was  found  that  as  I  already  spoke  Greek  more 
readily  than  English,  I  was  likely  to  fall  behind  in  my 
English  studies,  which  I  had  begun  with  my  mother  the 
same  year. 

Although  taught  to  keep  in  the  background  and  rarely 
to  speak,  yet  I  could  listen,  and  one  can  readily  perceive 
how  nuich  may,  in  that  way  be  learned  by  a  child  of  active 
mind  and  quick  perception.  My  parents  took  particular 
pains  to  interest  me  in  the  people  and  country  of  my  birth 
by  repeating  to  me  events  and  legends  of  Greek  history, 
such  as  the  story  of  Marathon  or  the  legend  of  Ulysses 
and  the  Odyssey,  which  I  soon  knew  by  heart.  Of  course 
they  often  recited  to  me  incidents  of  the  recent  Greek 
Revolution  until  I  almost  came  to  believe  it  was  the  history 
of  my  own  country  and  heroes,  to  which  I  was  listening. 

Another  factor  in  directing  the  aim  of  my  thought,  if 

13 


not  actually  planting  the  seeds  of  certain  tendencies,  were 
the  folktales  recited  by  the  Greek  servants,  and  the  sea 
adventures  told  me  by  some  of  the  grizzled  mariners  who 
had  sailed  and  fought  in  the  fleets  of  Miaulis,  Tombazi,  and 
Saktoori.  They  often  came  to  our  house.  One  of  them  I 
especially  remember,  his  white  mustache,  weather  browned 
and  weather  seamed  features,  and  dark  flashing  eyes 
fringed  with  crows  feet.  He  wore  a  fez  with  a  short  blue 
tassel  of  the  islanders,  a  half  open  shirt,  vest  decorated 
with  embroidery,  the  worse  for  wear,  and  corded  buttons, 
a  red  band  or  belt,  baggy  blue  breeches,  and  scarlet  shoes 
but  no  stockings.  I  would  listen  by  the  hour,  breath- 
less with  interest,  seated  on  his  knee  or  on  the  steps  at 
his  side,  to  stories  of  battle,  shipwreck  and  storm.  These 
old  sea  dogs,  who  were  doubtless  much  like  the  men  of 
Ulysses,  made  for  me  models  of  brigs  and  mysticoes  until 
my  inbred  love  of  the  sea  took  fire,  and  I  perpetually 
thought  and  dreamed  of  the  briny  clement.  From  that 
day  to  this  I  have  had  no  stronger  passion  than  my  love 
for  the  sea  and  ships,  and  would  "swap  yarns"  with  old 
seamen  on  a  ship's  deck  or  along  shore  with  as  much 
pleasure  as  to  converse  with  artists,  philosophers,  poets, 
and  statesmen. 

It  was  when  I  was  six  years  old  that  the  celebrated  Suli- 
ote  chieftain,  Kitzo  Tzavellas,  visited  at  our  house  with 
his  wife.  He  was  one  of  the  famous  band  who  stormed 
the  camp  of  the  Turks  on  the  night  when  Marko  Bozzaris 
was  killed,  he  who  was  the  hero  of  Fitz  Greene  Halleck's 
immortal  ode.  After  that  event  Tzavellas  commanded  the 
Suliote  contingent  in  the  ill-starred  but  immortal  siege  of 
Missolongi,  the  place  where  Byron  gave  up  his  life  for 
the  freedom  of  Greece.     After  the  most  heroic  defence, 

14 


when  the  supply  of  rats  and  mice  began  to  fail,  and  Ibra- 
him Pasha,  the  Turkish  general,  was  on  the  point  of 
storming  the  place,  the  garrison  determined  to  cut  their 
way  out,  hoping  that  some  at  least  might  thus  escape  from 
the  inevitable  horrors  of  a  victorious  assault.  At  dead 
of  night  the  Greeks  sallied  from  their  works  in  two 
columns,  attended  by  thousands  of  famishing  women  and 
children.  On  one  wing  the  sortie  failed,  but  about  1,500 
of  the  beseiged  succeeded  in  hewing  their  way  through  the 
enemy's  line  and  evaded  pursuit  in  the  mountains.  At 
their  head  was  Kitzo  Tzavellas  ;  his  heroic  wife  marched 
at  his  side,  her  infant  on  one  arm  and  brandishing  a  sci- 
mitar with  the  other.  Of  such  stuff  were  the  women  of 
Suli !  I  well  remember  this  illustrious  pair,  as  they  sat 
in  my  father's  study,  while  we  all  listened  with  the  keen- 
est interest  to  the  thrilling  story  of  the  escape. 

Study  and  educational  influences  were  no  more  indis- 
pensable for  the  Greek  men  of  action  and  affairs  than  for 
the  barons  of  feudal  times.  Learning,  and  generally  not 
much  of  that,  was  for  the  priests  in  those  days,  but  the 
sword,  and  shriswdness,  craft  and  will-power  sufficed  for 
the  rulers  and  the  men  of  war,  and  genius  was  as  much 
in  evidence  with  the  one  as  with  the  other.  The  celebrated 
]Mehmet  Alee,  who  founded  the  existing  dynasty  of  so- 
called  viceroys  or  khedives,  and  held  Egypt  in  his  fist, 
could  neither  write  nor  read.  But  he  could  do  what  some 
bookmen  cannot  do — he  could  read  and  manage  men,  and 
had  insight  and  nerve  equal  to  ever}'  occasion. 

Opposite  our  house  was  the  Konak  or  metropolitan 
residence  of  Petro  Mavromichaelis,  known  as  the  Petro 
Bey  of  whom  I  have  spoken,  feudatory  chief  of  Southern 
Greece  or  Sparta  under  the  Turks,  and  one  of  the  most 

15 


prominent  characters  of  the  Hellenic  Revolution.  A 
group  of  palikars  or  irregular  soldiery  and  retainers 
always  loitered  in  picturesque  listlessness  about  the  en- 
trance. They  wore  the  brilliant  national  costume,  and 
most  of  them  were  armed  with  huge  flintlock  pistols  and 
long  silver  mounted  dirks  stuck  in  broad  red  belts  deco- 
rated with  gold  thread,  while  scimitars  were  suspended 
from  the  waist  by  red  sashes.  Long  barrelled  "tufeks" 
or  flint  locks  of  the  old  Albanian  type  were  leaned  against 
the  wall,  and  two  or  three  shaggy  wolf  dogs  slumbered  on 
the  steps  with  half  an  eye  open  for  intruders.  These  com- 
bined objects,  this  romantic  eff'ect,  daily  visible  under  our 
eyes  against  a  background  of  storied  mountains  melting  in- 
to the  cloudless  sky  of  Attica,  suggested  thoughts  in  severe 
contrast  with  the  orthodox  puritanism  which  my  parents 
were  trying  to  instil  into  my  soul. 

I  visited  the  palace  several  times,  but  never  saw  Otho, 
the  King  of  Greece,  except  on  public  occasions.  My  father 
met  him  officially  when  acting  as  American  charge  d'af- 
faires. Naturally  such  a  striking  event  as  the  popular 
rising  against  the  King  in  September  of  1843,  in  order  to 
wrest  a  constitution  from  the  despotic  rule  of  that  mon- 
arch, was  exactly  to  the  taste  of  a  man  of  Griziotis'  type 
who  was  one  of  the  leaders.  His  tall  figure  with  that  of 
Makriyni  or  Long  John,  was  everywhere  apparent,  and  re- 
ceived due  prominence  in  the  rude  illustrations  of  that 
event,  designed  by  local  artists.  I  well  remember  many  of 
tlic  incidents  of  this  brief  and  successful  uprising  which  was 
managed  so  well  that  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  a 
complete  change  in  the  character  of  the  government  was 
effected  without  the  loss  of  a  single  life.  This  is  more 
than  can  be  said  of  most  of  the  revolutions  Europe  has 
seen  for  a  similar  purpose. 

16 


No  one  slept  a  wink  the  night  before,  for  the  clatter 
of  liorse  hoofs  on  the  pavement,  and  the  rush  of  excited 
multitudes.  Cannon  were  pointed  toward  the  entrance  of 
the  palace  and  an  immense  crowd  was  gathered  in  the 
royal  square,  armed  and  ready  to  act,  if  necessary,  but 
in  the  meantime  quietly  chatting  and  smoking  as  if  watch- 
ing some  ordinary  occurrence,  while  the  delegates  of  the 
people  were  arguing  with  King  Otho  to  grant  the  con- 
stitution and  legislative  chambers  demanded.  Men  had  no 
force  to  depend  upon,  but  a  few  companies  of  Bavarian 
guards,  who  would  have  been  slaughtered  in  the  first  on- 
set. The  telegraph  did  not  exist  then.  No  appeal  could 
be  made  to  the  powers.  The  diplomatic  corps  stood 
aloof,  confounded  by  the  suddenness  of  the  coup.  The 
people's  delegates  were  respectful  but  inflexible,  and  as 
his  Majesty  felt  no  enthusiasm  to  re-enact  the  tragedy 
played  by  Louis  XVI  and  the  Swiss  guards,  he  yielded 
every  demand  before  the  close  of  day.  Russia,  whicli 
sometimes  loses  her  self-control  and  drops  the  disguise 
by  which  she  conceals  her  aims  and  policy,  instantly 
recalled  her  envoy  at  Athens  and  relegated  him  into  per- 
manent retirement  for  not  asserting  Russia's  claim  to 
quasi  suzerainty,  and  commanding  Otho  to  remain  firm 
at  whatever  cost. 

The  following  night  the  entire  city  was  illuminated. 
However  disposed,  no  one  would  have  dared  to  leave  his 
windows  darkened.  Our  own  house,  therefore,  was  lit  up 
with  candles  and  tapers  floating  on  olive  oil  in  tumblers 
of  water,  a  common  method  of  lighting  in  those  days, 
before  the  discovery  of  petroleum  or  gas.  The  crack  of 
flintlock,  muskets  and  pistols  rang  all  over  the  city — a 
noisy  feu  de  joie  that  continued  until  the  local  supply  of 

17 


sakee  and  rum  was  about  exhausted.  For  days  after 
that,  whenever  people  met,  they  would  greet  each  other 
with  the  exclamation,  ^''Zeto  to  Syntagna!"  "Long  live  the 
Constitution  !"  Everyone  wore  a  bit  of  red  ribbon  in  his 
buttonhole,  often  with  an  iron  or  silver  cross  attached  to 
it.  Although  a  mere  lad  of  six  years,  I  was  carried  away 
by  the  universal  enthusiasm  and  insisted  on  having  a 
ribbon  of  genuine  scarlet  ribbed  silk,  and  an  iron  cross 
sewed  to  my  blouse. 

It  was  one  of  the  proudest  days  of  my  life  when  my 
mother  took  me  on  one  of  our  delightful  morning  strolls 
to  tlie  ruins  of  the  Temple  of  Jupiter  Olympus  with  that 
red  ribbon  and  cross  glistening  on  my  bosom.  On  that 
day,  at  least,  I  was  more  of  a  Greek  than  an  American. 

While  the  excitement  was  still  at  its  height,  my  father 
met  a  crowd  of  school  boys  in  the  street  vociferating 
with  unusual  glee.  "What  is  the  matter  now,  my  boys?" 
inquired  my  father.  "Oh,"  replied  their  leader,  "it's 
just  this;  our  teacher  has  been  flogging  us  overmuch 
lately,  and  carrying  on  altogether  too  lively  for  us.  And 
so  we  all  rose  today  and  just  gave  him  a  flogging  in  re- 
turn, and  kicked  him  out  of  the  school :  ''Zeto  to  Syn- 
tagna!''    'Long  live  the  Constitution!'  " 

The  Duchess  of  Plaisance,  an  eccentric  French  lady, 
who  died  in  1854,  had  a  country  place  in  the  mountains 
near  Athens  when  we  were  living  there  to  which  she  some- 
times invited  guests  of  note,  for  she  effected  to  patronize 
intellect  and  culture.  On  one  occasion  Dr.  King,  the 
noted  American  missionary,  together  with  a  number  of 
savants,  literati,  and  diplomats,  were  invited  to  her  villa. 
The  ride  up  the  rough  mountain  road  was  long  and  ex- 
hausting, and  the  racy  air  whetted  their  appetites  until 

18 


they  looked  forward  with  keen  impatience  to  the  hour 
when  they  should  gather  around  the  smoking  board  and 
enjoy  a  sumptuous  dinner  by  the  capable  chef  of  the 
Duchess.  They  reached  the  house  at  last;  it  was  long 
after  sunset,  and  they  were  hungry  as  wolves.  Judge 
then  of  their  stupefaction  and  horror  w^hen  the  noble 
hostess,  on  reaching  the  dining  salon,  announced  the 
menu  in  these  blood-curdling  words :  "Gentlemen,  I  can 
easily  understand  that  when  men  of  scholarship  and  intel- 
lect like  yourselves  meet  together  it  is  not  with  the  grosser 
pleasures  of  the  table  that  you  enjoy  each  other's  society, 
but  by  the  pure  interchange  of  thought.  I  have,  there- 
fore, arranged  for  a  light  meal  that  would  be  in  harmony 
with  the  character  of  the  occasion."  She  then  invited 
them  to  partake  of  the  glass  of  milk  and  the  slice  of 
sponge  cake  that  were  laid  by  each  plate.  Language 
failed  to  describe  the  mingled  chagrin  and  wrath  of  those 
philosophic  souls  as  the}'  partook  of  the  slender  re- 
freshments, which  they  hastened  to  supplement,  on  re- 
tiring to  their  rooms,  by  bribing  the  servants  to  snuiggle 
up  to  them  a  supply  of  eatables. 

Among  the  distinguished  travellers  I  remember  to  have 
seen  at  Athens  were  Sir  Jolui  and  Lady  Franklin,  and 
Stephens,  the  noted  author  of  Travels  in  Central  Ameri- 
ca Chiapas  and  Yucatan,  one  of  the  most  entertaining 
books  of  travel  ever  written.  I  also  remember  well  the 
Rev.  Joseph  Wolfe,  a  guest  of  Dr.  Leaves  while  at  Athens, 
on  his  way  to  the  far  East  on  an  errand  which  attracted 
much  attention  at  that  time.  He  w^as  a  converted  Jew 
connected  with  the  British  Bible  Society — florid,  red- 
liaired,  corpulent,  quick  and  nervous  in  his  actions,  l)ut 
possessed  of  some  ability  which  pi'ocured  for  him  a   iiiar- 

19 


riage  with  an  English  lady  of  quality.  He  was  then  en- 
route  on  a  mission  for  the  British  government,  having 
nobly  volunteered  to  go  in  search  of  tidings  of  the  ill  fated 
emissaries,  Captains  Conolly  and  Stoddart,  who  had  been 
sent  to  the  Emeer  of  Bokhara.  The  East  India  Company 
and  the  British  Foreign  Office,  notwitlistanding  the  gener- 
al ability  displayed  in  their  dealings  with  Asiatics,  have 
sometimes  committed  stupendous  blunders  in  India  and 
Central  Asia,  that  might  almost  bring  their  sanity  into 
question,  and  such  as  Russian  astuteness  never  would 
allow. 

As  I  had  been  very  feeble  in  infancy,  and  had  had 
several  ill  turns  in  successive  years,  I  was  kept  back  and 
did  not  learn  to  read  in  any  language  until  my  seventh 
year.  Strange  to  say  I  could  not  learn  to  read  in  the 
ordinary  way — by  beginning  with  the  alphabet — but  by 
the  sight  of  a  word  in  its  entirety.  For  this  reason  it 
was  many  years  before  I  could  write  English  with  any 
certainty  that  the  words  would  be  spelled  correctly ;  in 
fact,  not  until  by  the  study  of  Latin  and  French,  and 
general  etymology  was  I  able  to  perceive  the  logical  proc- 
esses by  which  a  language  is  built  up  or  evolved  from 
other  tongues. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  I  had  so  few  associates  of  my 
own  age  I  was  almost  constantly  in  the  society  of  those 
much  older  than  myself — my  parents  and  their  acquaint- 
ances. I  was  not  only  permitted  but  often  encouraged  to 
accompany  them  when  making  or  receiving  visits. 

Two  of  the  most  striking  figures  to  be  seen  at  Athens 
in  those  days  were  the  daughters  of  Kitzo  Bozzaris, 
brother  of  Marko  Bozzaris,  I  recollect  seeing  them  several 
times,  tlieir  intense  black  tresses  superbly  set  off  by  the 

20 


sc-arlct  fezzcs  they  wore.  ]Mere  child  though  I  was,  I 
was  not  too  young  to  observe  the  beauty  of  scenery,  or 
the  beauty  of  women.  I  also  just  remember  seeing  Bja'on's 
famous  ''^Maid  of  Athens,"  who  was  at  that  time  a  portly 
matron,  the  wife  of  an  Englishman  prosaically  named 
Black. 

In  speaking  of  Byron  I  am  reminded  that  among  the 
people  we  met  was  a  Mr.  Noel  and  his  bride.  He  was  a 
nephew  of  Lady  Byron  and  was  travelling  in  Greece.  In 
our  parlor  they  alluded  to  the  unpleasant  story  about 
which  Mrs.  Stowe,  many  years  later,  published  a  highly 
sensational  article  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  She  gave 
it  out  as  a  great  secret  which  she  felt  it  her  duty  to 
reveal  in  order  to  diminish  the  pernicious  influence  of 
Byron's  poetry.  When  her  article  came  out  as  a  new 
"find"  in  literary  life,  I  was  amazed  as  I  had  heard  the 
story  in  my  boyhood  and  so  openly  alluded  to,  as  to  leave 
the  impression  that  it  was  anything  but  a  secret.  It  is 
now  known  that  it  was  a  fiction  evolved  from  an  over 
excited  brain,  and  that  Lady  Byron,  a  monomaniac  on 
the  subject,  confided  it  as  a  dead  secret  to  many  of  her 
friends. 

My  father  was  well  acquainted  with  Petro  Bey,  the 
white-haired  hero  of  Sparta  and  not  infrequently  took 
me  Avith  him  when  paying  his  respects  at  the  Konak. 
Petro  Bey  was  then  quite  advanced  in  years,  and  his 
spirit  had  been  broken  by  the  terrible  domestic  sorrows 
he  had  experienced,  such  as  the  execution  of  his  two  sons, 
who  after  bravely  fighting  through  the  Revolution,  as- 
sassinated the  President,  Capodistria,  for  secretly  pro- 
moting Russia's  designs.  But  outwardly  Petro* Bey  still 
presented   a  very  handsome  appearance,  his   ruddy   com- 

21 


plexion  and  keen  falconlike  eyes  contrasting  with  a  splen- 
did mustache  white  as  the  driven  snow.  If  I  remember 
rightly,  the  penmanship  of  Petro  Bey  extended  no  farther 
than  the  ability  to  scrawl  his  name  illegibly  at  the  foot  of 
letters  and  documents  dictated  to  his  secretary.  I  have 
in  my  possession  several  letters  and  papers  signed  in 
this  way. 

One  occasion  that  made  a  very  great  impression  on 
my  memory  as  a  child  was  the  funeral  of  Kolakotroni. 
He  had  l)een  one  of  the  most  turbulent  and  unscrupulous, 
yet  brilliant  generals  of  the  Greek  Revolution.  It  was  the 
first  military  funeral  I  had  ever  seen  and  had  elements  of 
picturesqueness  sometimes  lacking  in  the  obsequies  of  sol- 
diers elsewhere.  The  procession  passed  directly  under 
our  windows.  According  to  the  custom  of  the  Greek 
C'luirch,  the  body  was  not  enclosed  in  a  coffin,  but  lay  on 
the  bier  as  if  he  were  asleep,  the  head  slightly  raised  on 
a  pillow.  He  was  dressed  in  the  white  fustanella  or  kilt, 
scarlet  fez,  and  gold-embroidered  vest,  white  frilled  shirt 
of  silk  and  cotton  with  open,  flowing  sleeves,  many 
colored  silken  sash  and  pistol  belt,  red  embroidered  bus- 
kins and  red  shoes,  and  the  scimitar  lay  at  his  side — the 
one  he  wore  in  battle  or  on  state  occasions.  The  pallor  of 
the  old  warrior's  features  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
gorgeousness  of  his  military  trappings,  as  he  passed  slow- 
ly to  his  grave.  A  throng  of  priests,  acolytes,  and  incense 
bearers  in  gorgeous  vestments  attended  the  bier,  chanting 
a  solemn  requiem ;  and  the  Bavarian  troops  then  at 
Athens,  contrasted  their  European  uniforms  with  the  pic- 
torial national  dress  of  war.  Scarred,  white-haired  veter- 
ans followed  their  old  general  to  his  last  review. 


22 


Hadji  Christo,  hero  of  the  Revolution  and  comrade  of 
Kolakotroni,  was  another  of  the  interesting  figures  oc- 
casionally seen  at  our  house.  As  I  remember  him,  he  was 
of  medium  height,  spare  and  wiry.  Hadjd  Christo  was 
noted  for  the  hardships  he  had  endured  at  the  hands  of 
the  Turks.  One  of  his  adventures  was  his  captivity  in  a 
noisome  dungeon  so  dark  that  he  could  not  see  his  own 
hand  distinctly.  After  being  there  for  weeks  he  felt  some- 
thing warm,  some  living  creature,  nestling  under  his 
jacket  when  he  awoke  one  day.  Greatly  alarmed,  he  still 
remained  perfectly  quiet  and  awaited  developments.  It 
proved  to  be  a  serpent  that  sought  a  snug  bod  in  his 
bosom,  but  whether  poisonous  or  not,  the  captive  could 
not  tell.  Day  after  day  the  reptile  returned  to  the  same 
place,  growing  as  tame  and  familiar  as  the  mouse  of 
Baron  Trenck.  In  the  meantime,  Hadji  Christo  liimself 
began  to  find  even  such  companionship  a  relief  in  a  soli- 
tude that  he  expected  would  end  sooner  or  later  with  tor- 
ture or  famine.  This  strange  friendship  continued  for 
months,  until  the  prisoner  was  unexpectedly  released  by 
the  triumph  of  his  compatriots. 

One  of  the  most  familiar  characters  at  Athens,  who 
might  be  seen  any  day  stalking  with  a  band  of  choice 
spirits  like  himself  about  the  Agora  or  the  Stadium  where 
Alcibiades  stalked  two  thousand  years  ago  to  the  detri- 
ment of  his  native  state,  was  Griziotis,  a  noted,  or  rather 
notorious  palikar  of  the  Revolution.  He  made  as  much 
noise  during  his  military  and  political  career  as  some  who 
accomplish  much  more  for  the  good  of  their  country, 
being  in  fact  a  selfish,  egotistical,  turbulent  schemer,  a 
demagogue  in  military  garb,  a  modern  Alcibiades,  without 
his    genius.       He    represented    a    type   unfortunately    too 

23 


connnon  everywhere,  especially  among  democracies,  and 
above  all  those  that  are  characteristically  Greek.  Kleon, 
who  swaggered  about  Athens  during  the  Peloponnesian 
war,  was  a  prominent  example  of  this  undesirable  class 
that  has  always  abounded  in  Greece,  greatly  to  her  in- 
jury, and  is  coming  well  to  the  front  in  the  United  States 
today.  Not  all  the  Greeks  are  of  this  sort ;  far  from  it ; 
there  are  Greeks  and  Greeks,  but  this  type  has  flourished 
with  especial  success  on  Hellenic  soil. 

I  saw  Doctor  Wolfe  again  at  Trebizond,  when  return- 
ing from  Bokhara,  and  the  change  in  his  appearance  Mas 
something  I  shall  never  forget.  From  being  a  man  of 
self-importance,  jovial,  frank,  restless  and  loud-voiced 
he  had  become  sly,  suspicious,  fearful,  wary  and  careless 
of  speech.  If  he  had  passed  a  year  or  two  in  a  den  of 
cobras  and  rattlesnakes,  he  could  not  have  become  more 
changed.  During  his  entire  stay  within  the  limits  of  Bo- 
khara he  had  been  conscious  that  his  life  hung  by  a  thread. 
He  was  thousands  of  miles  from  a  friend ;  his  purpose 
was  more  than  suspected  and  he  was  watched  as  a  croco- 
dile watches  the  child  playing  on  the  bank.  What  did  it 
matter  to  the  brooding  fanatic  on  the  throne  of  Bokhara 
whether  there  was  one  infidel  dog,  more  or  less,  in  the 
world?  He  had  but  to  say  the  word.  Ostensibly,  Dr. 
Wolfe  went  there  to  gather  information  about  the  Jews 
of  that  khanate,  and  hence,  immediately  on  arriving 
there,  he  placed  himself  in  connnunication  with  the  Rabbis 
of  the  place.  But  so  closely  was  he  watched  that  he  was 
forced  to  converse  with  them  by  means  of  the  Psalms  of 
David  which  have  invocations  and  responses.  With  the 
manuscript  open  before  them,  they  would  chant  apparent- 
ly one  verse,  and  he  would  chant  the  response,  as  in  the 

24 


English  Litany.  But  what  they  actually  did,  was  to  in- 
terchange questions  and  replies  in  Hebrew  regarding  the 
two  last  envoys,  their  horrible  sufferings  and  cruel  exe- 
cution. Dr.  Wolfe  learned  by  this  means  that  he  was 
threatened  with  the  same  fate,  probably  by  poison.  For 
this  reason  for  weeks  he  ate  only  eggs  and  watermelons, 
and  what  with  this  and  the  constant  alarm  in  which  he 
lived,  he  nearly  died.  The  Emcer  himself  finally  gave 
Dr.  Wolfe  his  own  version  of  the  reasons  that  caused 
liim  to  murder  the  two  envoys,  and  then,  with  a  strange 
freak  of  mercy,  permitted  or  rather  expelled  the  victim 
of  his  power  from  his  dominions.  Wandering  through 
vast  desert  wastes  Dr.  Wolfe  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  band 
of  cutthroats  who  stripped  him  to  the  skin.  The  Rajah 
of  Lahore,  learning  of  his  desperate  condition,  sent  him 
assistance.  He  was  found  in  the  desert  completely  naked 
and  so  nearly  starved  that  he  seized  the  jars  of  preserves 
sent  to  him  and  dug  out  the  sweetmeats  with  his  fingers. 
Dr.  Wolfe  returned  home  by  way  of  Persia,  and  we  saw 
him  at  Trebizond  while  he  was  waiting  for  a  steamer,  t];iin 
as  a  rail,  and  woefully  subdued  in  manner,  as  I  have  al- 
ready observed. 

When  Mr.  Perdicaris,  our  excellent  consul  at  Athens, 
resigned,  my  father  was  appointed  acting  consul,  prac- 
tically a  diplomatic  agent,  in  his  place  and  continued  to 
serve  as  such  until  he  left  Athens.  Evidently  he  ful- 
filled the  duties  of  the  post  with  such  credit  that  no  for- 
mal successor  was  named  for  several  years.  But  this  of- 
fice, while  it  greatly  added  to  his  influence  and  extended 
his  acquaintances,  also  added  distinctly  to  his  labors  ;  his 
correspondence,  as  missionary  and  consul,  was  very  large. 
Envelops  were  then  practically  unknown,  and  large  square 


25 


sheets  were  used  even  in  private  correspondence,  folded 
to  receive  the  address  on  the  back,  and  sealed  with  wax  or 
wafers.  All  documents  entering  Greece  from  the  east 
and  south,  were  thoroughly  slashed  and  fumigated, 
owing  to  the  prevalence  of  the  plague  in  the  Levant.  The 
quarantine  was  the  most  effectual  means  known  to  pre- 
vent its  spread,  and  it  meant  forty  days  of  seclusion  in 
dead  earnest.  In  the  year  before  I  was  born,  107,000 
people  died  at  Constantinople  of  bubonic  plague,  when  my 
father  attended  the  annual  meeting  of  the  missionaries  at 
Smyrna  in  1841,  he  was  obliged  to  remain  one  month  and 
ten  days  in  the  lazaretto  at  Syra  before  he  could 
be  permitted  to  land  at  the  Piraeus,  or  Port  of  Athens. 
In  the  apartment  my  father  occupied  at  Smyrna  a  man 
liad  been  previously  confined  who  actually  had  the 
plague  and  was  one  of  the  few  who  ever  recovered  from 
it.  Impelled  by  some  morbid  motive,  before  leaving  the 
quarantine,  the  man  hid  a  fragment  of  his  underclothing 
in  a  niche  near  the  ceiling  of  the  room.  Sometime  later 
he.  happened  to  be  assigned  to  the  same  room,  having  in 
the  meantime  been  travelling  in  regions  entirely  free  from 
the  pest.  A  fatal  curiosity  led  him  to  see  if  the  rag  was 
still  in  the  niche;  it  was  there;  he  took  it  in  his  hand, 
caught  from  it  a  second  attack  of  plague  and  in  a  few 
hours  was  carried  out  in  his  coffin. 

My  father  was  capable  of  accomplishing  a  great  deal 
with  more  ease  than  most  men.  His  faculties  were  thor- 
oughly disciplined  and  perfectly  at  his  command.  He 
mastered  modern  Greek  and  translated  several  works  into 
that  language ;  at  the  same  time  he  instructed  classes  of 
young  men  of  whom  several  eventually  completed  their 
studies   and   acquired   professions    in   the   United    States ; 

26 


and  he  carried  on  a  large  correspondence  with  the  clergy 
and  public  men  of  Greece,  besides  showing  every  courtesy 
to  the  American  travellers,  more  numerous  at  Athens 
then  than  now,  who  called  on  him,  whether  as  fellow  coun- 
trymen or  as  consul.  Amid  his  varied  duties,  however, 
he  never  forgot  his  devotion  to  his  family  nor  neglected 
the  wife  and  children  he  loved  for  the  engrossing  cares  of 
his  profession.  Thoughtfully  remembering  how  few  boy 
companions  I  had,  he  often  took  me  with  him  (when  ac- 
compan^'ing  American  tourists)  to  the  classic  spots  of 
the  neighborhood  and  especially  the  Acropolis  and  ^Mars 
Hill,  and  the  immortal  antiquities  that  cluster  about  those 
hallowed  localities.  Young  as  I  was,  I  still  gathered 
enough  from  what  I  heard  and  saw,  to  have  my  fancy 
stimulated  by  the  atmosphere  of  Greece  and  the  throng  of 
its  legendary  and  historic  associations.  And  there  never 
was  a  time  in  my  memory  that  my  mind  was  not  open  to 
the  influences  of  nature;  my  heart  has  ever  thrilled  since 
infancy  with  a  sense  of  the  beautiful.  Even  then  the 
ruins  of  the  Acropolis  and  the  noble  plains  of  Athens, 
covered  with  exquisite  grey-green  olive  groves,  and  the 
superb  peacock-blue  expanse  of  the  Aegean  beyond, 
gemmed  with  roseate  isles  and  sheened  with  snowy  lateen 
sails,  overarched  by  the  dreamy  azure  of  heaven,  filled  my 
soul  with  a  vague  yet  unspeakable  rapture.  I  well  re- 
member, too,  the  beauty  of  tlie  frangrant  wall-flowers  that 
grew  out  of  the  crevices  of  the  ruins,  and  the  quaint  hoot 
of  the  little  owls,  who  as  the  special  favorite  of  Minerva, 
haunted  the  Parthenon  and  made  themselves  heard  as  the 
shades  of  twilight  yielded  the  purple  vesture  of  the  clas- 
sic land.  I  confess  that  I  am  myself  surprised  that  I  re- 
member  so   vividly   after   more   than    a   half   centurv    tlie 


27 


emotions  I  felt  in  the  presence  of  those  immortal  pros- 
pects. 

We  passed  several  seasons  at  the  village  of  Marousi 
which,  mere  hamlet  as  it  has  always  been,  is  yet  mentioned 
in  classic  literature.  There,  we  occupied  a  plain  tiled 
cottage  of  three  rooms,  situated  in  a  fruit  orchard,  through 
whose  shaded  sod,  babbled  a  mountain  brook.  The  peas- 
ant w^omen  of  the  neighborhood  came  there  to  wash  their 
clothes,  like  Nausikaa  and  her  maids,  singing  and  chatting 
the  live-long  day  under  olive  and  mulberry  trees,  on  whose 
boughs  the  cicada  droned  from  morn  till  night.  INIy  first 
essays  in  navigation  w-ere  made  in  one  of  the  sJcafes,  or  ob- 
long wash-tubs  of  these  barefooted  damsels.  The  garden 
walls  were  skirted  by  bright  colored  brambles  and  sweet 
scented  flowering  bushes  w^hose  romantic  fragrance  often 
comes  back  to  me  although  I  cannot  recall  their  names. 
My  sister's  nurse,  a  typical  Hydriote  woman  with  the  eye 
and  profile  of  a  Juno,  used  to  repeat  to  me  on  those 
dreamy  summer  days,  tales  of  the  old  folk-lore  which  held 
me  like  a  spell. 

The  drive  to  IMarousi  from  Athens  in  a  caleche,  was 
quite  romantic  oA'er  a  rough  road  speckled  with  the  shade 
of  olive  trees.  On  one  occasion  when  I  was  going  out 
there  with  my  father,  we  met  a  tall  peasant  striding  to 
town  with  the  long  swinging  gait  peculiar  to  that  class  of 
yeomanry,  half  shepherd,  lialf  palikar.  His  figure  was 
enveloped  in  a  capote  of  undressed  sheep  skin,  worn  with 
the  wool  outside.  On  his  shoulder  rested  the  long  bar- 
relled flintlock  then  common  to  the  East  and  still  to  be 
seen  in  out  of  the  way  nooks.  His  left  elbow  w^as  crooked 
as  if  he  were  carrying  something  heavy  and  bulky.  When 
he  came  up  with  the  carriage  he  stopped  and  drew  from 

28 


under  the  capote  (and  held  out  at  arm's  length,)  the  head 
of  an  immense  wolf  dripping  blood  the  tongue  hanging 
between  the  gaunt  jaws.  "What  do  you  think  of  that?" 
he  exclaimed ;  "I  killed  him  an  hour  ago  over  yonder,  and 
now  I  am  going  for  the  reward."  The  wolves  of  Europe 
and  Asia  are  much  larger  and  fiercer  than  the  American 
species,  and  this  one  especially  had  done  great  mischief 
to  the  flocks.  One  summer  we  passed  at  an  old  monaster}^ 
on  Mount  Hymettus,  famed  in  Greek  poesy  for  its  honey 
flavored  with  aromatic  thyme.  The  monastery  was  cen- 
turies old,  almost  like  a  fortress,  and  clinging  fortress- 
like to  the  rocky  side  of  the  mountain  in  a  glade  among 
the  forests  of  olive.  The  bearded,  long  tressed  monks 
were  genial,  jolly  good  fellows  serving  the  Lord  appar- 
ently with  great  zeal  of  mind  and  bod}',  solid  and  dignified 
characters. 

When  I  was  six  3'^ears  old  my  mother's  health  failed. 
The  question  was,  how  was  she  to  get  the  needed  change 
of  scene.  To  take  the  steamer  for  Smyrna  (several  small 
steamers  had  then  been  pUnng  in  the  Levant  for  a  short 
time)  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  for  it  implied  a  long,  de- 
pressing quarantine  at  Syra  on  her  return.  To  go  to 
America  was  even  more  difficult,  if  she  went  alone  with 
her  children  by  sailing  ship,  (the  way  in  those  days.)  Mv 
father  could  not  accompany  her,  without  permission  from 
the  American  Board,  which  probably  could  not  be  ob- 
tained under  five  or  six  months.  He  decided,  therefore, 
to  charter  a  small  Greek  vessel,  and  send  my  mother  and 
her  two  children,  respectively  six  and  three  vcars  old,  on 
a  roving  cruise  about  the  Aegean-lNIane,  the  extreme 
southern  district  of  Greece.  This  was  to  be  the  objec- 
tive point,  for  an  American  missionary  was  already  sta- 

29 


tioned  tliere  with  his  family.  At  his  house  she  would  re- 
main with  children  and  servants,  until  my  father  could 
come  after  us. 

Behold  us  then  on  an  inexpensive  Greek  goletta  of 
barely  fifty  tons,  sailing  out  of  the  Piraeus  with  a  fair 
wind,  to  cruise  in  the  wake  of  Ulysses.  Our  party  in- 
cluded besides  my  mother  and  her  children,  a  Hydriote 
nurse,  the  one  mentioned  on  a  previous  page,  and  faith- 
ful Constantine,  a  tall,  grand,  old  veteran  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, one  of  those  retainers  one  may  still  see  sometimes 
in  the  old  countries,  who  identify  themselves  with  the  in- 
terests of  their  employers,  and  can  be  depended  upon  to 
stand  firm  and  true  whate'er  betide.  A  goletta,  is  the 
Greek  term  for  what  we  call  a  brigantine.  The  Greeks 
had  feluccas,  lateen  rigged  fore  and  afters,  the  forerun- 
ners of  our  schooners,  and  other  odd  rigs,  but  for  the  most 
part  they  favored  square  rigged  craft,  or  vessels  with 
yards  and  square  sails,  even  when  vei'y  small.  They  re- 
quired more  watchfulness  and  larger  crews  than  in  the 
case  of  sloops  and  schooners.  Often  a  brig  or  goletta 
was  owned  and  sailed  by  a  family,  the  father  or  oldest 
brother  acting  as  captain,  and  the  others  making  up  the 
crew.  Naturally,  the  Greek  democratic  spirit  found  vent 
in  these  domestic  arrangements  ;  all  spoke  or  argued  to- 
gether or  bawled  contradictory  orders.  Fortunately  this 
apparent  insubordination  rarely  went  beyond  w'ords,  and 
accidents  were  less  common  than  in  Yankee  craft  because 
the  Greek  mariners  had  learned  prudence  and  caution 
from  cruising  among  the  squally  islands  and  headlands  of 
the  Archipelago.  The  polacre  rig  they  used,  was  also  an 
element  of  safety  for  permitting  the  square  sails  to  be 
closed   down   quickly   while   the   spanker   or  fore  and   aft 


30 


mainsail  was  brailed  to  the  mast,  instead  of  lowered.     Sea- 
men will  easily  understand  these  technicalities. 

The  cabin  of  our  little  goletta  was  so  small  and  close 
and  so  swarming  with  cockroaches  and  fleas  that  my 
mother  preferred  the  hold ;  our  mattresses  were  there- 
fore spread  on  the  gravel  ballast.  The  hatch  being  left 
open  in  good  weather,  the  ventilation  was  reasonably  good. 
We  jogged  along  under  easy  sail  and  I  was  soon  on  good 
terms  with  the  crew  who  showed  me  how  the  sails  were 
worked  and  how  to  steer  with  the  tiller.  There  was  a  droll 
young  lad  on  board,  the  nephew  of  the  skipper,  ten  or 
twelve  years  old,  who  considered  me  in  a  sense  as  his  pro- 
tege. We  were  not  on  a  racing  voyage;  speed  was  not 
insisted  on,  in  the  articles  of  the  charter,  but  safety  and 
comfort  were.  Hence,  we  touched  at  a  number  of  ports, 
chiefly  among  the  islets.  Of  these  I  remember  three  or 
four.  The  captain  hailed  from  Hydra,  and  naturally 
found  it  convenient  to  cast  anchor  in  the  snug  harbor  of 
the  tight  little  island  which  showed  such  naval  activity  and 
heroism  during  the  Greek  Revolution.  The  sides  of  the 
harbor  spring  steeply  from  the  blue  water  and  the  white 
and  3^ellow  walls  and  the  red  tiled  roofs  of  the  city,  closely 
packed  from  water's  edge  to  crest,  and  fringed  by  rows  of 
white-sailed  windmills,  produced  an  indelible  impression. 
The  captain  took  us  on  shore  to  visit  his  sister,  who  was 
married  to  one  of  the  leading  priests  of  the  island.  Priests 
of  the  Greek  church  are  not  only  permitted,  but  required 
to  marry  once,  but  not  twice.  Thus  it  may  be  supposed 
that  the}'  take  good  care  not  to  be  left  widowers.  The 
lady  received  us  cordially  and  after  the  usual  refresh- 
ments of  coff'ee  and  preserves,  took  us  to  see  her  husband's 
church  which  adjoined  the  house.  He  was  officiating  at 
vespers  to  a  small  congregation. 

31 
3 


From  Hydra  we  followed  our  devious  way  from  isle  to 
isle,  until  we  arrived  at  Cape  Malea  or  St.  Angelo,  the 
southern  end  of  the  Grecian  peninsula,  and  the  limit  of  an- 
cient Laconia.  It  has  a  very  bad  name  for  puffy,  danger- 
ous squalls.  For  many  years  a  monk  has  lodged  in  a 
cave  at  the  extreme  end,  who  has  been  supposed  to  have 
an  influence  over  the  weather.  For  this  reason  Greek 
sailors  have  been  in  the  habit  of  heaving  to,  and  sending 
a  boat  on  shore  with  provisions  to  propitiate  and  stimulate 
his  prayers,  when  the  weather  allowed  them  to  do  so.  As 
this  fat  ecclesiastical  berth  has  never  seemed  to  be  vacant, 
it  may  be  inferred  that  the  first  incumbent  has  had  succes- 
sors to  fill  his  place.  We  came  off  the  Cape  at  night,  and 
probably  because  we  were  unable  to  send  our  quota  of 
provisiions  to  the  old  monk  at  that  hour,  we  did  not  es- 
cape the  caprice  of  the  genius  loci.  About  midnight  the 
goletta  Avas  nearly  thrown  on  her  beam  ends  by  a  violent 
squall.  The  crew  instantly  fell  to  their  knees  and  vowed 
the  customary  tribute  of  candles  and  provisions  to  St. 
Nicholas  the  protector  of  ships  and  sailors,  and  then  went 
to  work  to  shorten  sail.  It  was  a  wild  and  grotesque 
scene  not  a  little  terrifying  to  those  of  us  who  were  be- 
low in  the  hold.  But  old  Constantine  did  his  best  to 
quiet  our  alarm,  ever  and  anon  putting  his  head  down  in 
the  hatch  to  assure  us  that  there  was  no  danger  and  that 
all  would  soon  be  well.  But  for  all  that  we  had  a  smart 
shaking  up,  rolled  down  to  leeward  over  the  single  ballast 
and  against  the  creaking  timbers  of  the  natty  little  ship, 
through  whose  planks  the  dashing  water  sounded  very 
near. 

The  following  morning  proved  serene,  and  after  break- 
fast, a  simple,  primitive  meal,  as  may  be  imagined,  we  an- 

32 


chored  in  the  haven  of  Elaphonisi,  the  isle  whither  Paris 
and  Helen  first  sought  an  asylum  when  they  fled  from 
Sparta,  at  least  so  the  ancient  bards  assure  us.  Ac- 
companied by  Constantine,  who  carried  my  little  sister 
on  his  arm,  we  landed  and  called  on  the  governor,  who  re- 
ceived us  with  that  graceful  affability  Greeks  and 
orientals  alike  display,  when  they  have  nothing  to  gain 
by  an  opposite  course.  He  presented  us  with  a  basket  of 
fresh  figs  and  prickly  pears,  and  a  throng  of  islanders, 
not  one  of  whom  had  probably  ever  before  seen  an  Ameri- 
can lady  and  child,  flocked  to  the  beach  to  see  us  go  on 
board.  The  next  morning  our  romantic  little  cruise 
ended  safely,  when  we  and  our  effects  were  rowed  to  the 
mainland  of  Laconia,  at  the  village  of  Marathonisi,  on 
the  rocky  peninsula  of  Kakavoulia  or  Evil  Council.  There, 
we  expected  to  be  met  by  jNIr.  liCyburn  and  taken  to  his 
house  at  Areopolis,  a  few  miles  from  the  coast.  The  day 
was  very  warm  and  sultry,  and  we  gladly  sought  a  cool 
shade  under  some  rocks  by  the  shore.  Few  trees  were 
anywhere  to  be  seen ;  nothing  but  the  azure  sea  and  sky, 
the  yellow  gra}^  rocks  bluish  in  the  distance,  the  scatter- 
ing little  town  dreaming  by  the  water,  and  a  few  fishing 
boats  and  coasters  swinging  idly  at  their  moorings.  The 
scene  is  plainly  impressed  on  my  memory  because  we  were 
very  hungry,  and  could  hardly  wait  for  Constantine  to  re- 
turn from  the  village  with  a  loaf  of  hard  black  Spartan 
bread  and  some  smoked  herrings.  How  good  they  did 
taste.  I  shall  never  forget  them.  From  that  day  to  this 
I  never  smell  a  smoked  herring  but  that  I  instantly  see 
before  me  that  scene  where  my  mother  and  sister  and  I 
sat  on  the  shore  in  the  south  of  Greece  so  many  long  years 
ago,  and  waited  for  ]Mr.  Leyburn.     At  last  we  heard  the 

33 


clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  stony  road,  and  saw  his  white  um- 
brella moving  above  the  wild  cactus.  We  were  speedily 
mounted  on  mules,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  were  wel- 
comed to  an  American  home  in  Sparta,  and  the  only  one 
in  Greece  outside  of  Athens. 

Being  whole  souled  Virginians  who  for  years  had  lived 
in  that  remote  place  without  seeing  the  face  of  a  fellow 
countryman,  the  Leyburns  were  as  delighted  to  welcome 
us,  as  we  were  to  see  them.  What  was  a  great  pleasure 
to  me,  they  had  three  children,  two  of  them,  Elizabeth  and 
George,  near  my  own  age.  The  Leyburns  lived  in  a 
tower  called  by  the  natives  a  pyrgo  or  fortalice.  It  was 
a  type  of  many  such  structures  found  all  over  the  prov- 
ince Mane  or  Laconia.  It  consisted  of  three  lofty  stories, 
containing  originally  one  large  square  room  to  each  story, 
reached  by  ladders  and  trap-doors.  But  the  Leyburns 
had  caused  stairs  to  be  built  to  the  second  floor,  and  di- 
vided it  by  partitions.  They  occupied  that  with  their  fam- 
ily, the  first  or  ground  floor,  which  was  eight  or  nine  feet 
from  the  ground,  being  used  for  dining  and  common  sit- 
ting room.  The  third  story,  with  its  ladder,  trap-door, 
and  large  single  apartment,  was  assigned  to  us.  Each 
floor  was  lighted  by  small  windows,  intended  to  serve  also 
as  loopholes  for  muskets. 

Some  have  considered  these  pyrgos  of  Mane  to  be  of 
comparatively  modern  origin,  imitated  from  Italian 
towers  when  the  Venetians  and  Genoese  occupied  Greece. 
But  I  think  they  began  to  be  used  at  a  far  earlier  period 
with  possibly  some  later  modifications,  for  allusion  to 
such  structures  is  found  in  classic  writers,  and  especially 
in  "The  Morals"  of  Plutarch.  He  states  that  Aristo- 
demus,  during  the  Messenian  War,  used  to  make  furtive 

34 


visits  to  his  mistress,  who  would  meet  him  with  the  utmost 
secrecy  at  his  mother's  tower,  for  his  life  w^as  earnestly 
sought  by  his  deadly  enemies  the  Spartans.  Now,  it  is 
categorically  related  that  he  would  climb  a  ladder  to  an 
upper  room  and  close  the  trap-door.  His  mother  would 
remove  the  ladder,  as  if  no  one  was  up  there,  and  restore 
it  when  he  was  ready  to  leave  before  dawn.  That  was  a 
long  time  before  the  Christian  era,  and  hence  the  tradition 
evidently  points  to  such  towers  at  a  very  early  period.  In 
the  time  immediately  preceding  and  following  the  Revolu- 
tion, the  people  of  Mane  were  cursed  with  vendettas  like 
the  Spartans  or  Corsicans  or  the  Kentuckians  of  later 
days.  They  were  only  safe  when  abroad  if  carried  on  the 
backs  of  women.  Their  enemies  were  constantly  on  the 
lookout  to  pick  them  off.  Within  their  pijrgoes,  however, 
they  could  in  turn  keep  a  constant  watch  Avith  their  own 
muskets  ever  ready  at  the  loophole  to  shoot  down  an  un- 
wary foe.  This  vendetta  system  is  not  abolished  alto- 
gether even  at  this  day  in  southern  Mane. 

Adjoining  Mr.  Leyburn's  pyrgo,  was  a  smaller  build- 
ing for  the  kitchen  and  servants.  A  high  wall  surrounded 
the  premises,  and  a  large  wolf  dog  of  uncompromising 
ferocity  Avas  chained  there  during  the  day  and  turned  loose 
at  night.  From  our  four  small  windows  we  commanded  a 
superb  prospect  over  the  distant  yet  grand  mass  of  !Mt. 
Taygetus  and  the  rocky  landscape  of  Sparta  in  the  north, 
while  in  the  south  spread  the  blue  expanse  of  the  ]\Iediter- 
ranean.  Our  mattresses  were  laid  on  the  floor  at  night 
and  rolled  up  in  the  day  time.  My  sister  Frances  slept 
in  a  genuine  Doric  cradle,  doubtless  the  same  as  those  in 
which  infants  slept  whom  the  "Doric  mothers  bore"  in  the 
davs  of  Lvcurgus.      It  consisted  of  a  small  hammock  of 


35 


red  leather  decorated  with  tinsel,  and  suspended  by  long 
ropes  from  the  rafters  of  the  roof  above.  She  was  tied 
into  it,  and  the  nurse  rocked  it,  as  she  sat  in  the  window 
knitting,  by  a  rope  attached  to  her  foot  and  bent  over  her 
knee.  As  the  knee  swayed  back  and  forth  the  cradle 
swayed  to  and  fro,  and  thus  the  Hellenic  nurse  rocked 
the  little  American  girl,  and  crooned  to  her  a  cradle  song 
in  the  long  drawn,  plaintive  notes  of  oriental  peasant 
melody. 

At  the  end  of  three  months  my  father  arrived  to  take  us 
home.  He  came  in  a  Greek  corvette  that  was  cruising  in 
those  waters.  I  well  remember  the  bright  day  when  the 
nurse  called  me  to  the  window  with  a  cry  of  delight,  and 
bade  me  see  the  white  gleaming  sails  of  the  ship  of  war  as 
she  approached  the  port. 

We  returned  to  Athens  by  land,  which  meant  on  horse- 
back or  muleback,  the  luggage  and  indispensable  bedding 
we  required  being  carried  on  mules.  During  the  first 
stages  of  our  journey  the  muleteers  were  Spartan  women 
who  held  the  tails  of  the  mules  to  steady  them  when  de- 
scending steep  declines  and  did  the  same  when  climbing 
to  assist  themselves.  I  have  but  a  faint  recollection  of 
Mistra  which  occupies  the  site  of  the  ancient  Sparta  but 
which,  famous  as  it  is,  left  but  comparatively  few  antiqui- 
ties. The  civilization  of  Sparta  did  not  favor  the  fine  arts. 
But  I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  ridge  of  Taygetus 
rising  snow-capped  beyond  the  town,  and  some  recollec- 
tion of  revisiting  Argos,  my  birthplace,  and  of  the  neigh- 
boring antiquities  of  Tiryns  and  Mypenal  where  Helen 
and  Clytemnaestra,  Menelaus  and  Agamemnon,  lived 
and  are  buried.  At  Argos  we  visited  at  the  house  of 
General  Gordon,  one  of  the  most  noted  of  the  Philhellenes 


36 


who  gave  their  money,  their  labor,  or  their  lives  to  the 
liberation  of  Greece.  His  history  of  the  Greek  Revolu- 
tion is  an  invaluable  record  of  that  struggle. 

After  nodding  for  several  stages,  my  memory  becomes 
bright  and  clear  again  as  we  entered  Arkadia.  I  have  a 
keen  recollection  of  the  shepherds  we  passed  tending  their 
flocks  in  the  Arkadian  valleys,  and  piping  wild,  sweet, 
simple  ditties  on  rude  flutes  of  reed  such  as  were  used  long 
before  the  days  of  Theocritus.  Another  feature  of  the 
country  which  took  my  fancy  but  which  is  rarely  alluded 
to  by  travellers,  was  the  masses  of  wild  oleander  growing 
luxuriantly  by  the  bank  of  streams,  brightening  the  land- 
scape and  lading  the  air  with  perfume.  The  recent  scare 
about  the  poison  of  oleander  fragrance  is  bosh.  One  of 
the  most  vivid  memories  of  my  childhood  is  the  terrible 
climb  to  the  village  of  Ahoori  in  the  storm.  It  was  at 
noon  that  we  stopped  to  lunch  under  the  olive  trees  near 
a  roadside  guard  house.  The  weather  looked  very  threat- 
ening. But  as  it  was  Saturday,  we  were  anxious  to  reach 
a  lodging  where  we  could  pass  a  quiet  Sunday.  At  one 
o'clock,  therefore,  we  were  again  in  the  saddle.  One  of 
the  muleteers  and  two  of  the  military  escort  furnished 
us  by  the  government,  (my  father  having  a  certain  con- 
sular right)  and  who  accompanied  us  as  a  protection 
against  brigands,  led  the  way;  then  came  my  father  hold- 
ing me  on  the  saddle  before  him ;  then  my  mother  and  after 
her,  the  nurse,  old  Constantine,  holding  my  little  sister, 
and  finally  followed  the  other  two  guards,  the  muleteers 
and  the  sumpter-mules  loaded  with  baggage  and  bedding. 
Our  way  led  along  a  tortuous,  stony  bridle  path  zig- 
zagging up  the  mountains,  through  the  heart  of  a  rock- 
ribbed    gorge    and    along    the    edge    of    steep    precipices. 

37 


What  was  worse,  the  winding  road  often  crossed  a  torrent 
whose  bed  followed  the  turn  of  the  ravines.  It  is  called 
the  Saranta  potamos  or  forty-fold  river  because  it  has 
forty  windings  or  bends,  that  travellers  must  cross  in  go- 
ing to  the  road's  end.  We  crossed  it  many  times  on  that 
single  afternoon ! 

The  rain  began  to  pour  soon  after  we  struck  the  bed 
of  the  torrent.  At  that  time  the  stream  was  a  mere 
whimpering  rivulet  like  a  silver  thread  over  the  sand  in 
the  centre  of  the  bed,  whose  full  width  was  many  yards 
across.  Soon  the  rain  increased  to  a  regular  cloud  burst, 
a  deluge  appalling  in  its  volume  and  lasting  most  of  the 
afternoon.  The  wind  blew  down  the  gorge  in  blasts  that 
well  nigh  stopped  our  progress ;  the  incessant  blinding 
lightning  seemed  to  strike  the  rocks  all  around  us,  and 
the  steady  peal  of  thunder  rebounding  from  cliff  to  cliff, 
far  surpassed  the  continuous  roar  of  battle.  Of  course, 
we  were  all  completely  soaked  in  a  few  minutes,  except  as 
our  heads  and  shoulders  were  only  partially  protected  by 
capotes  of  felt,  for  such  a  hurricane  was  hardly  expected 
so  early  in  the  season.  But  there  was  no  shelter  to  be 
found,  and  our  only  course  was  to  proceed.  What  added 
a  distinct  element  of  danger  to  the  horrors  of  the  day,  the 
bed  of  the  torrent  began  to  fill  up  until  the  crisis  came 
when  we  had  to  ford  it  over  and  over  again  through  a  rag- 
ing, tumbling,  tawny  flood  reaching  over  the  horse's 
girths,  rolling  down  roots  and  rocks,  and  threatening  to 
sweep  us  to  destruction.  Happily,  towards  night  the 
tempest  began  to  abate.  Cold  gleams  of  livid  light  broke 
sullenly  over  the  mountain  tops  in  the  west,  and  after 
dark,  we  finally  reached  a  plateau  sodden  with  rain,  and 


38 


saw  a  few  lights  twinkling  in  the  gloom.  This  was  the 
hamlet  of  Ahoori,  where  we  were  to  pass  Sunday. 

After  the  usual  searching  and  chaffering,  a  small  upper 
room  was  obtained  for  us  in  one  of  the  best  hovels  in  the 
village.  It  was  reached  by  an  outside  ladder,  and  was 
directly  over  the  only  other  apartment  of  the  dwelling 
which  was  in  fact  a  stable  for  horses  and  cattle.  Our 
room  had  the  advantage  of  .a  chimney  and  fireplace,  and 
a  roaring  wood  fire  was  soon  kindled.  We  sent  out  for 
eggs  and  goat's  milk,  brewed  a  pot  of  tea,  and  with  these 
meagre  provisions  supplemented  by  cold  chicken  and  black 
bread  from  our  soaked  bags,  sat  down  on  the  floor  to  a 
meal  seasoned  with  Spartan  sauce  if  it  had  no  other  merit. 
In  the  meantime  we  children  were  weighed  down  with  sleep, 
and  as  soon  as  our  appetite  was  satisfied,  we  were  rolled 
up  in  a  rug  and  laid  away  in  a  corner,  while  the  bedding 
was  dried  in  a  perfunctory  manner  before  the  fire.  The 
smoke  from  the  chimney  and  the  fumes  reeking  through 
the  floor  from  the  stable  below  produced  an  atmosphere 
that  would  paralyze  some  of  the  over  fastidious,  ultra  re- 
fined bacteria  and  microbe-scared  travellers  of  the  present 
da}'.  Dress  suits  and  diamonds  were  not  on  the  menu  of 
travellers  in  Arkadia  in  those  days ! 

But  we  had  your  genuine  traveller's  nature,  and  trifles 
did  not  disturb  our  capacity  to  take  life  as  we  found  it  on 
the  road,  and  enjoy  it  because  it  was  not  exactly  like  the 
home  we  had  left  behind.  Since  that  eventful  day  I  have 
encountered  numerous  scenes  more  or  less  resembling  this, 
and  therefore,  can  say  emphatically,  that  all  the  so-called 
improvements  and  comforts  of  modern  travel  have  addeil 
nothing  to  the  real  pleasure  of  touring;  on  the  contrary 
they  have  taken  away  from  it  a  keen  zest,  a  gamy  flavor. 


39 


a  wild  indescribable,  blood-stirring  joy  that  only  those 
who  have  tried  it  can  understand  and  appreciate. 

Ever  impressionable  to  the  effects  of  nature,  I  well  re- 
member the  prospect  when  I  was  dressed  the  next  morning 
soon  after  sunrise,  and  went  out  to  get  fresh  air.  The 
sun  languidly  breaking  through  the  banks  of  glowering 
clouds  with  a  watery  glare,  shone  full  on  great  pools  left 
by  the  rain  and  skirted  by  mountains.  The  pools  were 
red  as  blood.  The  sullen  silence  of  the  morning,  the  san- 
guine reflection  on  the  water,  conveyed  the  impression  of 
the  reaction  that  follows  after  a  great  battle,  when  the 
combatants  have  retired,  and  the  bloody  field  is  left  to  the 
dying  and  the  dead,  like  Cannae  or  Chalons,  after  Car- 
thaginian, Hun,  Roman,  and  Gaul  have  hewn  each  other 
to  pieces  and  the  survivors  are  brooding  over  the  doom 
they  have  given  or  escaped.  It  is  a  curious  mental 
idiosyncracy  that  whenever  since  that  day  I  have  read  the 
account  in  Genesis  of  Chedorlaomer  and  the  slaughter  of 
the  Kings  and  how  the  water  looked  like  blood,  that  scene 
at  Ahoori  appears  before  me. 

From  Ahoori  we  passed  northward  through  Tripolitza, 
still  unrecovered  from  its  dreadful  siege  and  the  awful  out- 
rage and  slaughter  when  the  Greeks  carried  it  by  storm. 
We  kept  on  through  Corinth  and  jMegara,  finally  reach- 
ing our  pleasant  home  at  Athens  without  further  serious 
adventure. 

When  I  was  about  eight  years  old  the  American  Board, 
having  already  lessened  its  force  in  Greece,  decided  to  re- 
duce its  efforts  in  that  country  still  further,  perceiving 
the  inexpediency  of  undertaking  to  convert  the  Greek 
Christians  to  Protestantism  at  that  time.  Dr.  King  and 
my  father  were  soon  the  only  missionaries  of  the  Board 

40 


remaining  in  Greece.  As  the  Armenian  field  seemed  to 
promise  better  results,  the  Board  was  wisely  seeking  to 
enlarge  its  influence  in  Turkey  where  most  of  the  Arme- 
nians lived.  My  father  was,  therefore,  soon  directed  to 
proceed  to  Trebizond,  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  Black 
Sea.  It  was  no  small  effort  and  sacrifice  to  move  that 
distance  in  those  times  with  a  wife  and  several  small  chil- 
dren and  household  goods,  and  to  abandon  a  field  where 
he  had  mastered  the  language  and  understood  the  people. 
It  implied  an  arduous  journey  of  1400  miles  with  several 
breaks,  settling  among — to  us — new  peoples,  and  the  ac- 
quisition of  another,  perhaps  two,  entirely  distinct  lang- 
uages— Armenian  and  Turkish.  But  my  parents  cheer- 
fully acquiesced,  and  in  due  time  we  took  passage  on  the 
American  steam  packet  for  Constantinople. 


41 


CHAPTER    II. 

FROM  TREBIZOND  TO  AMERICA. 

The  day  after  we  sailed  from  the  Piraeus  I  became 
keenly  aware  that  I  was  entei'ing  on  a  distinctly  new  and 
stirring  phase  of  life.  The  steamer  reached  Syra  in  the 
morning  and  remained  there  until  sunset.  My  father 
took  us  to  the  residence  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hilner,  an  ex- 
cellent German  missionary,  who  lived  near  the  top  of  the 
steep  slope  on  which  the  white  stone  houses  of  the  city 
are  closely  packed.  Mr.  Hilner  had  several  sons  who 
studied  under  a  private  tutor.  A  holiday  was  granted 
them  in  order  that  we  might  enjoy  a  few  hours  of  sport 
together.  They  were  full  of  enthusiasm  for  the  Greek 
heroes  they  read  of  in  their  classical  studies  and  were 
fired  likewise  by  the  recent  German  military  spirit.  Ac- 
cordingly their  chief  amusement  was  to  imitate' the  com- 
bats of  the  Greek  and  Roman  soldiers  with  shields,  hel- 
mets, and  swords  of  pasteboard,  wood  and  tin.  Nothing 
would  do  but  I  must  encase  myself  in  one  of  these  awk- 
ward suits  of  armor  and  fight.  For  a  boy  who  had  been 
tied,  as  it  were,  to  his  mother's  apron  strings  until  that 
day,  this  proceeding  was  sufficiently  novel  to  mark  a  dis- 
tinct turn  in  life.  But,  considering  the  circumstances,  I 
think  I  took  to  the  change  with  unexpected  spirit,  and 
acquitted  myself  creditably  with  these  jolly  young  Teu- 

42 


tons,  for  I  remember  giving  and  receiving  some  hard 
knocks,  becoming  wonderfully  excited,  and  finally  leav- 
ing those  bright  lads  with  regret.  I  may  add  that  as 
their  language  was  German  and  mine  was  English,  we 
were  forced  to  converse  in  Greek,  a  common  tongue  for 
us  both. 

Proceeding  from  Syra  to  Smyrna  and  thence  to  Con- 
stantinople, I  was  fairly  in  the  land  of  the  "unspeakable 
Turk,"  While  awaiting  the  completion  of  his  arrange- 
ments for  continuing  the  journey,  my  father  with  his 
family  visited  the  neighboring  city  of  Brusa,  in  Bithynia 
and  the  first  capital  of  the  Turkish  empire,  for  it  was  es- 
sential to  consult  the  missionaries  stationed  in  Brusa.  Of 
this  little  trip  three  facts  are  especially  impressed  on  my 
memory ;  the  exceeding  beauty  of  the  plains  of  Brusa, 
flanked  by  the  snow-capped  range  of  the  Bithynian 
Olympus  ;  the  mode  of  travel,  for  my  sister  Frances  and  I 
rode  in  kadjavehs  or  basket  seats  slung  one  on  each  side 
of  a  pack  horse  and  balancing  each  other ;  and  lastly  the 
fact  that  the  children  of  the  American  missionaries  in 
Brusa  spoke  Turkish  altogether  among  themselves  in 
preference  to  English.  Accustomed  to  hearing  English, 
Greek  and  French,  the  sonorous  Turkish  tongue  was  com- 
paratively new  to  me,  and  to  hear  American  boys  chatter- 
ing in  that  language  when  at  play  aifected  me  somewhat  as 
the  ignorant  Greek  priest  of  Scio  was  impressed  when  he 
heard  some  English  lads  speaking  their  native  tongue; 
"Why,  the  little  devils  actually  speak  English!"  he  ex- 
claimed, never  imagining  that  it  might  be  otherwise  than 
an  acquired  language,  like  Latin  in  our  day. 

The  distance  from  Constantinople  to  Trebizond  by  sea 
required    a    week,    for    the    weather    was    boisterous,    the 


43 


steamer  was  small,  the  line  being  but  recently  started,  and 
we  touched  at  Sinope  and  Samsun,  both  open  roadsteads. 
The  port  of  Trebizond  was  also  an  exposed  road,  ver}'^ 
dangerous  and  often  impracticable  in  winter.  Goods  and 
passengers  had  to  be  landed  in  surf  boats  and  carried  on 
shore  on  men's  shoulders.  We  were  received  cordially  by 
Rev.  Edwin  Bliss  and  Mr.  Stevens,  the  British  consul, 
who  conducted  us  to  the  house  engaged  for  our  occupancy. 
It  was  a  typical  Turkish  dwelling  common  in  Asif.  Minor, 
massively  built  of  stone  for  the  first  or  ground  floor,  and 
of  wood  for  the  second  story,  which  overlapped  the  first 
in  such  wise  as  to  form  a  broad  covered  veranda  on  the 
ground  floor.  The  apartments  were  large  and  lofty,  the 
windows  of  the  lower  floor  protected  by  strong  cross  bars 
of  iron  like  a  prison,  according  to  the  law  of  the  land.  The 
red  tiles  of  the  roof,  ovei'grown  with  green  mosses,  har- 
monized well  with  the  weather-worn  red  of  the  sides  of  the 
upper  story ;  the  lower  was  iron  grey,  the  natural  color  of 
the  stone.  The  house  stood  in  a  neglected  enclosed  gar- 
den, the  part  near  the  house  paved  with  cobblestones,  the 
remainder  divided  off  by  a  rickety  espalier  fence  over- 
grown with  untrimmed  jessamine  and  syringa  vines,  and 
fruit  trees.  The  orchard  included  a  few  untrimmed 
apple,  cherry,  plum  and  pear  trees,  in  a  state  of  neglect. 
The  kitchen,  quarters  for  the  servants,  and  stables,  were 
in  a  group  by  themselves,  and  a  high  massive  stone  wall, 
whose  upper  edge  was  bevelled  to  a  sharp  ridge  armed  with 
savage  bits  of  broken  glass  set  in  the  mortar,  enclosed  the 
entire  premises,  and  shut  us  out  from  the  world.  Of 
course  this  establishment  was  too  spacious  for  our  very 
modest  menage,  but  it  was  obtained  cheap  and  was  in  fact 
the  only  sort  of  thing  to  be  had  unless  we  occupied  one 

44 


of  the  rickety  and  mean  dwellings  huddled  in  the  lower 
town  for  the  poverty  stricken  rayalis.  The  entrance  was 
small,  just  large  enough  to  admit  a  horse.  Small  street 
gates  are  the  rule  in  Asia,  even  for  mansions  of  wealth, 
for  obvious  I'easons  of  safety  from  mobs  or  government 
rapacity.  The  entrance  opened  on  one  of  the  chief  resi- 
dential streets  of  Trebizond ;  yet  that  street  or  sokdk  went 
up  and  down  and  this  way  and  that,  without  a  windo\\ 
opening  on  it,  and  barely  wide  enough  for  two  loaded 
horses  to  pass  each  other.  The  grounds  on  the  north  side 
directly  adjoined  the  edge  of  the  precipitous  rocky  ledge 
that,  as  a  natural  barrier,  protected  the  city  from  the 
inroads  of  the  surges.  From  our  second  story  we  had  an 
unobstiTJcted  view  of  the  roadstead  and  the  wild  expanse 
of  the  bleak,  boisterous  Euxine  stretching  north  and  east. 
j\Iany  a  time  did  I  see  water  spouts  in  the  lowering  offing, 
sometimes  several  in  a  row  like  a  colonnade  supporting  the 
sky  ;  and  when  the  storms  blew,  the  roar  of  the  surges 
was  indescribably  grand  and  melancholy.  One  black  stormy 
night  an  ill-fated  brig  and  her  crew  were  dashed  to  pieces 
on  the  rocks  only  a  few  yards  distant  from  our  grounds. 
Naturally  our  house  was  exceedingly  bleak  and  inclement 
during  winter.  The  natives  in  the  cold  season  wore  fur- 
lined  robes  and  cuddled  around  mangals  or  braziers  con- 
taining charcoal.  Sometimes  a  pan  of  live  coals  was 
placed  on  a  raised  platform  under  a  table  lined  with  tin 
and  called  a  fandoor.  Over  this  a  cover  resembling  a 
heavy  comforter  was  thrown,  reaching  in  massive  folds 
to  the  floor.  The  family  would  thrust  their  feet  and 
legs  under  this,  and  so  manage  by  the  aid  of  furs, 
pipes,  coffee,  knitting  and  embroidery,  and  books  to 
worry    through    the    winter.     American    air-tight    stoves 


45 


had  begun  to  be  introduced  into  Turkey;  the  missionaries 
at  Constantinople  already  had  thcni.  Mr.  Bliss,  our  as- 
sociate, had  brought  one  from  America,  bvit  could  only 
make  it  draw  by  putting  the  pipe  out  of  the  window.  We 
were  obliged  to  resort  for  the  most  part  to  the  native 
method  for  keeping  warm,  and  so  managed  to  see  the 
spring  sunshine  and  flowers  return.  But  as  may  be  im- 
agined, a  delicate  woman  like  my  mother  suffered  severely 
from  such  hardships  during  our  life  at  Trebizond. 

Our  social  advantages  were  sufficiently  restricted  in 
that  city  in  those  days,  but,  of  course,  for  a  missionary 
that  is  a  minor  consideration,  a  mere  detail.  The  Rev. 
Edwin  Bliss,  a  new  missionary  of  the  Board,  his  young 
wife  and  their  infant,  were  the  only  Americans  besides 
ourselves  at  Trebizond.  Mr.  Stevens,  the  British  con- 
sul, and  his  sister,  Mr.  Charnaud,  the  Belgian  consul,  and 
family,  and  the  German  physician,  comprised,  so  far  as  I 
can  recollect,  the  sum  total  of  the  European  population 
of  Trebizond.  Of  course  my  father  was  closely  occupied 
studying  Armenian  and  Turkish,  and  my  mother  had  four 
young  children  to  care  for,  to  clothe,  to  teach  and  to 
nurse. 

Thrown  once  more  on  my  own  resources,  I  passed  much 
of  my  time  watching  the  movements  of  the  ships,  whose 
various  models  and  rigs  I  tried  to  imitate  with  my  jfick- 
knife.  I  also  built  in  the  yard  a  rude  sort  of  hull,  out  of 
boxes ;  my  mother  gave  me  old  sheets  w^hich  I  cut  into 
sails ;  and  I  would  sit  in  it  by  the  hour  about  as  much 
alone  as  Robinson  Crusoe,  sometimes  furling  or  setting 
the  sails,  occasionally  catching  a  harmless  capsize  and 
fancying  myself  at  sea  in  a  ship.  At  this  time,  also,  I  kept 
a  rude  sort  of  a  journal,  one  of  the  few  relics  of  those  days 

46 


of  the  long  ago,  that  I  have  preserved  through  all  my  wan- 
derings. But  its  brief,  naive  jottings  ended  when  I  left 
Trebizond.  This  solitude  also  led  me  to  cultivate  a  love 
for  books,  and  I  read  enormously  for  a  lad  only  nine  that 
winter.  There  were  few  books  written  in  those  days  for 
young  people  that  were  not  of  the  flabby  religious  sort. 
Such  as  were  in  our  house  were  happily  of  a  class  to  stimu- 
late the  growth  of  the  intellectual  spine,  such  as  "Pierre 
and  His  Family,"  ""Decision  Makes  the  ]\Ian,"  and  "Rob- 
ert Dawson,"  all  healthy  reading  for  the  young  mind. 
Practically  and  fortunately  I  was  forced  to  take  up  what- 
ever came  to  hand.  Among  the  literature  I  then  read  I 
especially  remember  Morier's  "Hadji  Baba," — the  Per- 
sian Gil  Bias,  (little  imagining  I  should  ever  live  in  Per- 
sia) and  the  "Eclectic  Magazine,"  that  time  honored 
periodical,  which  lived  so  many  years,  for  solid  usefulness 
and  readableness  has  never  been  surpassed  or  equalled. 
It  contained  nothing  frothy,  yet  it  was  not  heav}".  It 
gave  the  cream  of  the  British  reviews  when  such  writers 
as  De  Quincey  and  Macaulay  were  in  their  prime,  and  each 
number  was  embellished  by  a  copy  of  some  noted  picture 
by  Wilkie,  Eastlake,  Leslie,  Landseer,  and  the  like  suf- 
ficiently well  engraved  in  mezzotint  by  John  Sartain.  I 
began  to  read  the  "Eclectic"  at  Trebizond  and  devoured 
almost  every  article  with  avidity.  !My  father  gave  us 
much  amusement  winter  evenings  imitating  with  his  hands 
Wilkic's  inimitable  "Rabbit  on  the  Wall,"  as  rendered 
by  a  plate  in  the  "Eclectic." 

But  tlie  book  tliat  made  the  most  instantaneous  and 
lasting  impression  on  my  mind,  proving,  in  fact,  a  turn- 
ing point  in  my  intellectual  development,  was  Fetcr  Par- 
ley's Hist  or  ij  of   the   World,   attributed  to   Goodricli.      It 


47 


was  actually  written  by  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  a  fact  now 
well  known.  I  came  across  a  greasy,  well  thumbed  copy 
of  that  book  in  the  room  of  Krikor,  a  poor,  young,  Ar- 
menian protestant  who  was  sheltered  from  persecution  at 
our  house.  He  was  trying  to  learn  English  in  the  inter- 
val, and  "Peter  Parley"  had  been  put  in  his  hands  by  an- 
other Armenian  who  had  received  it  from  the  missionaries 
at  Constantinople.  I  had  never  seen  the  book  before,  and 
it  proved  a  genuine  revelation  of  style  and  subject  to  my 
boyish  mind.  I  was  captivated  from  the  very  first  page; 
I  could  hardly  leave  it  for  my  meals.  And  when  I  had 
finished  it,  immediately  read  it  again.  From  that  day  to 
this  no  branch  of  literature  has  held  a  greater  fascination 
for  me  than  history,  or  has  had  more  influence  in  shaping 
my  life,  character,  and  opinions. 

Krikor,  the  Armenian  youth  already  alluded  to,  having 
been  much  influenced  by  the  instruction  of  the  American 
missionaries,  had  been  terribly  scourged  by  his  people, 
then  cast  into  a  noisome  dungeon  on  a  trumped  up  charge, 
and  left  there  to  rot.  He  was  rescued  thence  through  the 
kind  offices  of  the  English  consul,  Mr.  Stevens.  The  Ar- 
menians were  good  persecutors  in  those  days  and  many  of 
them  thoroughly  hated  the  American  missionaries,  as  some 
of  them  do  still.  When  we  crossed  the  meidan  or  public 
square  by  the  governor's  honak  and  the  bazaars,  the 
rabble  of  precious  Armenian  pezevenks  or  hoodlums  used 
to  hurl  stones  at  us,  and  revile  us  for  Free  Masons,  which, 
in  their  opinion,  was  even  more  opprobrious  than  the  ob- 
scene epithets  that  generally  issued  from  their  lips.  As 
I  look  back  to  those  scenes,  although  they  were  not  unat- 
tended with  danger,  I  am  amused  rather  than  indignant. 
Those  poor  fellows  did  simply  as  they  had  been  taught ; 

48 


they  knew  no  better.  We  are  all  in  the  same  predicament. 
The  best  of  us  act  only  according  to  our  lights,  and  the 
light  of  even  some  Americans  is  pretty  dim.  The  Ar- 
menians have  never  been  backward  in  trying  to  rival  other 
Christians  in  the  gentle  art  of  shaping  religious  opinion 
by  open  violence,  or  endeavoring  to  steer  souls  into  heaven 
by  resort  to  quasi  legal  means.  If  the  Turkish  authori- 
ties have  sometimes  yielded  to  the  urgent  appeals  or  bribes 
of  the  Armenians  and  aided  them  by  furnishing  author- 
ity and  means  for  destroying  each  other,  let  us  not  too 
hastily  blame  them,  for  these  Christians  (who  have  received 
from  them  a  toleration  hardly  permitted  even  now  in  some 
Christian  lands),  have  maligned  them  for  ages  throughout 
Christendom, 

A  curious  incident  occurred  during  our  residence  at 
Trebizond  corroborating  a  statement  in  Xenophon's  "An- 
abasis." My  father's  Turkish  teacher,  an  affable  gentle- 
man of  middle  age,  failed  to  come  one  day.  We  supposed 
him  to  be  ill.  But  when  he  appeared  on  the  third  day, 
he  said  the  explanation  of  his  absence  was  that  he  had 
eaten  copiously  of  some  wild  honey  which  a  peasant  had 
brought  him  from  the  mountains.  It  had  operated  like  a 
powerful  narcotic.  He  was  thrown  into  a  deep  sleep 
which  had  lasted  more  than  twenty-four  hours.  Xenophon 
relates  that  after  coming  in  sight  of  the  Euxinc,  the  Ten 
Thousand  found  some  wild  honey  of  which  they  all  par- 
took freely,  and  very  soon  the  whole  army  fell  into  a  long, 
heavy  slumber.  It  is  evident  that  in  both  cases  it  was  the 
same  kind  of  honey  that  was  eaten,  and  that  the  bees  had 
imbibed  the  juice  of  some  unsuspected  narcotic  flowers. 

Of  the  natives  who  visited  my  parents  I  learned  much 
of  Oriental  life  and  character,  and  gained  further  glimpses 

49 


of  it  strolling  through  the  bazaars  or  markets  with  my 
father  or  watching  the  curiously  built  ships  stealing  into 
port,  oddly  rigged  and  decorated  with  quaint  colors  and 
elaborate  carvings.  Sometimes  the  deck  of  those  vessels 
were  partitioned  and  protected  with  awnings  for  the  Cir- 
cassian girls  proceeding  from  the  neighboring  shores  of 
Circassia  to  the  slave  markets  of  Constantinople  or  other 
Turkish  ports.  Much  unnecessary  sentiment  has  been 
wasted  over  the  sale  of  fair  Circassians  for  such  purposes, 
considering  where  they  were  born  and  brought  up.  If 
they  had  remained  at  home  they  would  have  been  bartered 
to  some  peasant  as  poor,  perhaps,  as  themselves,  and  as 
effectually  separated  from  their  kinsfolk.  Family  ties 
and  moral  obligations  are  and  always  were,  as  loose  as 
they  could  be  in  the  Caucasus  among  all  races  and  classes. 
But  by  being  taken  to  Constantinople  these  waifs  of 
destiny  were  sure  of  reasonable  treatment  lest  their  charms 
be  impaired,  and  they  would  be  purchased  by  wealthy 
Turks  who  offered  them  more  comforts  than  they  would 
have  had  in  Circassia,  raised  them  to  be  wives  and  com- 
panions, and  bestowed  on  them  more  attention  than  tliey 
would  ever  have  found  in  their  native  home.  It  has  often 
happened  that  these  quasi  slaves,  when  elevated  to  position 
and  influence  in  the  harem,  have  remembered  their  parents 
and  sent  them  costly  gifts.  Everything,  to  be  rightly 
•judged,  must  be  considered  in  relation  to  its  environment, 
a  fact  which  is  constantly  forgotten.  Things  are  too 
rarely  viewed  in  their  proper  perspective,  hence  many  of 
the  harsh  condemnations  in  which  Christians  often  indulge 
regarding  Orientals.  In  any  case  slavery  in  the  Orient 
never  has  been  as  cruel,  as  heart-rending,  as  it  was  in  the 
southern  United  States,  and  the  marriage  de  convenance 

50 


prevalent  in  Europe  and  not  unknown  in  America,  and  the 
heartless  state  marriages  of  the  nobility  and  royalty,  not- 
withstanding that  they  are  sanctified  by  the  church,  have 
been  entirely  for  policy  and  as  pitiful  and  demoralizing 
to  society  as  the  marriages  of  the  East,  and  probably  less 
happy.  These  observations  are  made  by  one  who  has  had 
opportunities  for  obser%ang  life  alike  in  the  East  and  the 
West. 

Trebizond  was  picturesquely^  built  on  a  steep  slope 
springing  directly  from  the  water.  It  was  surrounded 
by  ivied  walls  dating  back  to  the  period  when  a  branch 
of  the  Byzantine  imperial  house  held  sway  on  the  Black 
Sea.  The  decaying  but  once  noble  cathedral  of  Santa 
Sophia  and  other  venerable  structures,  some  of  which  I 
still  remember,  bore  evidence  of  former  splendor.  Doubt- 
less in  time  we  should  have  been  won  by  these  attractions 
and  acquired  a  feeling  of  home  among  the  steep,  narrow 
streets,  crumbling  towers  and  gaily  painted  buildings, 
tarnished  and  faded  though  their  colors  might  be,  like  the 
glory  of  the  dominion  to  which  this  old  city  belongs.  My 
mother's  health  in  18tt7  demanded  a  change  more  radical 
than  any  yet  attempted.  My  father  decided,  therefore,  to 
send  his  resignation  to  the  Board,  and  started  for  Amer- 
ica, a  matter  easy  enough  to  record  in  a  few  words,  but  j.o 
easy  task  for  him  and  his  family,  either  physically  or 
mentally.  We  made  directly  for  Smyrna  via  Constan- 
tinople on  the  small  Austrian  steam  packet,  whence  we 
sailed  for  America  and  home. 

In  those  days  there  was  a  steady  trade  carried  on  en- 
tirely in  sailing  ships  mostly  American,  between  Boston 
and  Smyrna.  The  vessels  would  be  considered  small  in 
these  days,  averaging  2.50  tons,  but  many  of  them  very 

51 


smart,  sailed  by  smart  men,  and  they  made  smart  voy- 
ages with  the  right  slant  of  wind.  The  smartest  yachts 
turned  out  by  Herreshoff,  Fife  or  Burgess  never  did  bet- 
ter than  the  run  of  the  lovely  little  bark  Susan  Jane  from 
Boston  to  Smyrna,  5200  miles  in  twenty-nine  days !  Us- 
ually, however,  the  voyage  was  long,  and  to  some  people 
tedious,  as  must  be  the  case  with  sail  for  motive  power. 
Still  I  would  not  exchange  it  for  steam,  so  far  as  my  own 
pleasure  is  concerned. 

We  embarked  about  the  middle  of  May  in  the  bark 
Stambul,  Captain  Alfred  Kendrick,  a  sister  ship  of  the 
Osmanlee,  commanded  by  his  brother.  The  ships  were 
thoroughly  armed  and  built  expressly  for  the  Smyrna 
trade,  which  required  expedition,  as  they  were  expected  to 
race  home  in  the  fall  with  the  first  figs  and  raisins  for 
Thanksgiving  and  Christmas.  The  voyage  took  us  six- 
ty-five days,  and  was  far  from  lacking  in  wild  and  roman- 
tic incidents  such  as  were  common  in  those  days.  The 
Stambul  was  just  under  300  tons,  although  less  by  modern 
measurement.  She  was  painted  black  with  a  white  stripe 
and  imitation  port  holes  to  resemble  a  man-of-war;  and  she 
had  the  figure  of  a  Turk  at  the  bow,  all  quite  in  the  style  of 
those  days.  There  was  a  small  raised  poop  deck  with  a  low 
rail  or  bulwark,  altogether  too  low  for  a  vessel  carrying 
passengers  and  children.  The  neat,  cosy  cabin  was  en- 
tirely below  deck.  It  contained  six  staterooms,  the  size 
of  ward  robes,  and  was  painted  white  picked  out  with  gold. 
That  was  the  height  of  marine  style  in  those  days.  The 
forecastle  or  quarters  of  the  crew,  instead  of  being  on  deck 
as  it  is  now,  was  right  in  the  eyes  of  the  ship  below  deck, 
and  a  very  close,  noisome  unventilated  hole  it  was  indeed. 
The  Stambul  carried  two  good  sized  brass  cannon  amid- 

52 


ships  that  were  meant  for  business,  and  an  armory  of 
muskets,  pikes,  cutlasses  and  pistols  was  handsomely  ar- 
ranged in  the  cabin  around  the  mizzen-mast.  Pirates  were 
not  yet  extinct  in  the  Mediterranean  and  about  the 
"Straits,"  and  one  never  knew  when  a  band  of  ruffians 
might  steal  out  from  behind  a  romantic  Greek  island  or 
from  the  coast  of  Barbary.  It  was  not  very  long  after 
that  an  English  schooner  was  boarded  in  the  Archipelago, 
plundered,  and  every  soul  on  board  murdered.  The 
Stamhul  was  heavily  sparred,  which  was  most  important 
before  steam  crippled  sail  competition,  and  she  carried  all 
the  kites  customary  until  recent  years,  sky  sails,  studding- 
sails,  from  top  gallant  yards  down,  and  ring-tails. 
Double  top-sails  were  then  unknown;  any  sailor  can  judge 
of  the  amount  of  work  laid  out  for  the  crew  of  this  taut 
little  bark  in  the  matter  of  making  sail  alone.  The  deck 
was  likewise  scrubbed  with  so-called  "holy-stone''  and 
"prayerbooks"  on  Sunday;  and  sail  mending,  painting 
the  hull  inside  and  out,  setting  up  and  tarring  the 
rigging,  scraping  and  slushing  the  masts  helped  to  oc- 
cup3^  every  waking  hour,  for  iron  spars  and  wire  rigging 
were  unused  in  tliose  days. 

An  interesting  fact  of  this  vo^^age  was  that  captain, 
officers  and  crew  were  all  Yankees,  sturdy  Cape  Cod  men 
and  Marbleheaders,  except  the  cook  and  steward,  who 
were  mulattos  from  the  south,  and  John  the  Swede,  one  of 
the  men  before  the  mast.  It  would  probably  be  impos- 
sible to  find  any  vessel  now  floating  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
having  any  such  a  homogeneous  crew.  John  was  a  clever 
craftsman  and  a  good  hearted  fellow.  Like  the  rest  of 
tlie  crew  he  took  a  liking  to  me  as  I  was  already  a  sort  of 
sea-dog   in    miniature,   never    feeling   seasick,    and    loving 

53 


everything  about  a  ship  instinctively  as  a  duck  takes  to 
water.  John's  interest  in  me  took  tangible  shape  when  he 
made  me  a  beautiful  model  of  the  Stamhul,  very  carefully 
executed.  It  was  long  kept  in  the  family  as  a  much  cher- 
ished souvenir.  Captain  Kendrick  was  a  member  of  the 
Universalist  Church  and  in  good  weather  often  indulged 
in  a  lively  tilt  with  my  parents  on  predestinarianism, 
eternal  damnation  and  other  kindred  topics  about  which 
they  probably  agree  better  now,  in  the  other  world,  than 
they  did  then. 

Tlie  voyage  was  on  the  whole  uneventful,  although  a 
number  of  characteristic  incidents  occurred  illustrating 
the  nature  of  sea  life  before  the  fifties.  Of  course  to  one 
who  loves  a  sailing  ship,  voyaging  that  way  can  rarely  be 
said  to  be  wholly  uneventful.  There  is  always  some  in- 
cident to  sustain  interest,  to  quicken  curiosity  and  expecta- 
tion. In  those  days,  when  ocean  traffic  was  conducted  al- 
most entirely  in  sailing  ships,  a  large  fleet  would  some- 
times collect  near  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar,  waiting  for  a 
favorable  shift  of  the  wind.  It  happened  thus  in  our  case. 
We  were  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  eighty  sails,  when  the 
breeze  came  out  of  the  east,  each  presenting  a  cloud  of  can- 
vas and  flying  all  her  colors  as  we  glided  past  the  mighty 
rock  fortress  brooding  over  the  entrance  to  the  broad  At- 
lantic. Every  stitch  was  set  alow  and  aloft.  It  was  one 
of  the  most  thrilling  scenes  in  my  recollection.  One  after 
another  our  gallant  bark  passed  them  by.  At  last  the 
race  lay  between  the  Stamhul  and  a  British  brig  that  was 
slightly  larger,  the  William  Gary  of  Dundee.  For  some- 
time the  two  vessels,  leading  the  fleet,  glided  along  swiftly 
side  by  side,  so  near  that  we  carried  on  a  conversation 
and  the  sough  of  the  wind  could  be  heard  rushing  through 


the  sails  and  rigging  and  between  the  two  ships  when  they 
rolled  toward  each  other  on  the  heave  of  the  sea.  Then 
the  Stambul,  as  if  putting  forth  a  final  conscious  effort, 
began  to  forge  ahead  an  inch  at  a  time,  and  then  looked 
out  towards  her  port  in  the  west  three  thousand  miles 
away,  with  seventy-nine  sail  following  astern,  the  queen 
of  the  race. 

Some  days  after  this  stirring  scene  a  bark  hove  in  sight 
bound  eastward,  and  passed  some  three  miles  from  us.  Sig- 
nals were  exchanged,  and  she  proved  to  be  the  Osmanlee  the 
consort  of  the  Stambul,  commanded  by  the  brother  of  our 
Captain  Kendrick.  This  was  the  first  greeting  the 
brothers  had  exchanged  for  years  and  might  be  their  last ! 

We  passed  the  Azores  on  a  clear  day  with  a  top  gal- 
lant breeze.  It  was  very  fortunate  for  us  that  this  hap- 
pened by  daylight  otherwise,  I  should  not  now  be  alive  to 
write  these  pages  ;  for,  as  we  held  our  regular  course  after 
passing  Santa  Maria,  Captain  Kendrick  was  astounded  to 
discover  tremendous  breakers,  tumbling  over  a  reef  he 
had  never  seen  there  before  and  which  was  not  marked  on 
the  chart.  He  had  sailed  many  times  directly  over  that 
spot.  As  we  had  a  fair  wind  we  were  able  to  steer  clear 
of  the  breakers,  but  if  this  incident  had  occurred  at  night 
the  ship  would  undoubtedly  have  gone  to  pieces  on  the 
reef  and  her  fate  would  have  been  vmknown  forever.  The 
Azores  are  of  volcanic  origin,  and  at  the  southern  end  of 
the  group,  reefs  and  islands  are  sometimes  thrown  up 
above  the  ocean,  and  after  a  few  months  or  years  vanish 
out  of  sight.  It  was  on  such  an  unexpected  terror  that 
the  Stcmihul  so  nearly  met  her  fate. 

On  the  Fourth  of  July,  when  near  the  Banks  of  New- 
foundland,   the   atmosphere    suddenly   became    sharp    and 


55 


wintry.  Wlicn  the  sun  arose  in  a  clear  sky  the  entire 
horizon  flashed  like  the  gleam  of  bayonets  of  an  army. 
We  were  surrounded  by  ice,  both  field  ice  and  bergs. 
Good  luck  was  it  for  us  that  the  weather  was  clear  and 
that  we  had  a  working  breeze  to  give  us  control  of  the 
ship.  As  the  day  wore  on,  a  day  of  wonderful  awe  and 
splendor,  the  ice  closed  in  around  us  and  at  sunset  the 
scene  was  magnificent,  the  glittering  crystal  far  and  near 
being  of  malachite  and  ultramarine  hues  in  the  shadows, 
and  a  deep  glowing  rose  where  smitten  by  the  sun,  as  if 
we  were  floating  literally  amid  pearl  and  gold.  One  iceberg 
less  than  half  a  mile  from  us  w^as  four  hundred  feet  high 
according  to  the  Captain's  calculation ;  it  was  certainly 
twice  the  height  of  our  mainmast ;  and  above  its  topmost 
pinnacle  gleamed  the  evening  star.  Such  a  spectacle  as 
this,  so  extensive  and  superb,  is  rarely  seen  in  that  lati- 
tude. Child  as  I  was,  it  yet  left  an  indelible  impression 
on  my  memory.  But  it  was  an  hour  of  keen  anxiety  as 
well  as  wonder.  The  utmost  watchfulness  was  required  to 
keep  clear  of  these  floating  masses.  But  about  midnight 
the  wind  freshened  in  our  favor,  and  by  careful  steering 
under  press  of  sail  we  cleared  the  last  of  the  ice  by  day- 
break. 

Soon  after  we  struck  into  a  dense  fog  and  then  we  had 
to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  we  w^ere  on  the  fishing  banks 
and  liable  to  run  foul  of  bank  schooners  at  any  moment, 
far  more  numerous  in  those  waters  then  than  now.  As 
the  fog  thinned  a  little  for  a  short  time  we  actually  found 
ourselves  close  aboard  of  a  fleet  of  these  craft  riding  at 
anchor ;  we  had  already  heard  the  spectral  blast  of  their 
foghorns  mingling  with  the  swash  of  the  sea.  Captain 
Kendrick  stood  by  the  mizzen-rigging  hoping  to  catch  a 

56 


glimpse  of  his  boy,  who  was  mate  of  a  Cape  Cod  banker. 
Suddenly  a  halloo  came  over  the  water,  and  there  indeed 
he  was  waving  his  hat.  Rapidly  father  and  son  exchanged 
a  hurried  greeting,  the  latter  sending  a  kind  word  to  his 
mother,  then  the  vessels  separated,  fading  away  in  the 
fog,  and  years  might  pass  before  they  would  meet  again ! 
Such  was  the  life  of  the  hardy  sons  of  the  New  England 
coast  in  those  days.  Enterprise,  thrift,  separation,  and 
adventure.  There  were  Yankee  sailing  ships  roaming  the 
high  seas  in  that  time,  and  they  were  manned  by  Yan- 
kees, the  best  sailors  the  world  has  seen  since  Noah  cut 
adrift  for  dry  land  and  a  port. 

A  day  or  two  after  this,  we  took  a  northeast  gale  that 
carried  us  straight  to  Boston  Light  staggering  over  the 
mounting  billows  under  a  press  of  canvas.  Sail  after  sail 
blew  away  and  others  were  bent  in  their  place.  It  was  one 
of  tliose  wild,  maddening  races  when  no  effort  or  risk  is 
spared  to  economize  every  breath  of  a  favoring  wind. 
The  salt  tempest  infused  a  fierce  exultation  into  our  veins 
as  we  flew  for  port  or  destruction,  until  one  grey,  drip- 
ping dawn  a  pilot  schooner  hove  to,  under  our  lee.  She  was 
painted  green,  like  all  our  pilot  boats  then,  and  I  dis- 
tinctly remember  the  pilot  stepping  on  the  deck  of  the 
Stambul  with  a  package  of  newspapers,  and  shaking 
hands  with  the  Captain  and  my  father.  But  my  delight 
on  reaching  my  country  for  the  first  time  was  keenly 
embittered  by  the  fact  that  my  little  dog,  Malo,  a  beauti- 
ful King  Charles  spaniel,  given  me  by  the  King  of  Greece, 
and  who  had  accompanied  us  on  our  travels,  lay  dying 
in  the  cabin  below. 

In  those  days  there  were  no  tugs  to  tow  ships  to  the 
wharves,  and  so  the  Stambul  slowly  worked  her  way  up 


57 


the  tortuous  clianncl  under  sail  and  warped  up  to  lier 
berth  at  Long  Wharf,  just  sixty-five  days  out  from 
Smyrna ;  and  here  occurred  one  of  those  curious  coin- 
cidences of  life  that  confound  one.  A  vessel  going  to  sea 
got  in  our  way,  and  her  bowsprit  became  entangled  with 
our  mizzen-rigging  over  the  quarter  deck  where  my  father 
was  standing.  Among  the  men  who  swarmed  out  on  the 
jib-boom  to  separate  the  ships  was  her  captain;  and  he 
proved  to  be  Captain  Drew  who  had  taken  my  parents 
to  Smyrna,  and  this  was  the  very  vessel  in  which  they  had 
sailed. 

We  went  from  Boston  to  North  Adams  by  rail.  This 
was  the  first  time,  I  think,  that  my  parents  had  travelled 
that  way,  and  the  part  of  the  line  from  Pittsfield  to  North 
Adams  had  only  been  open  two  or  three  days  before  our 
arrival.  At  North  Adams  our  friends  met  and  took  us 
by  carriage  to  Williamstown.  After  visiting  various 
family  friends  in  New  York  and  New  Jersey  I  was  left 
to  pass  the  winter  with  my  good  grandmother  and  at- 
tend district  school  under  tlic  shadow  of  Williams  Col- 
lege.' 

An  incident  wliich  occurred  soon  after  we  reached 
Williamstown  is  worth  recording,  as  indicating  how  much 
some  customs  have  changed  since  then,  in  this  country. 
Dr.  Hopkins  invited  my  father  to  preach  in  the  church 
where  the  students  of  Williams  College  and  the  towns- 
people then  worshipped  together.  My  grandmother  looked 
forward  again  with  maternal  pride  to  seeing  her  youngest 
and  favorite  child  in  the  pulpit.  But  there  was  one  ob- 
stacle in  the  way,  and  until  it  was  overcome  she  must  fore- 
go the  anticipated  pleasure.  My  father  had  allowed  his 
mustache  to  grow  during  the  voyage.    A  chin  beard  he  had 

58 


worn  for  years.  The  former  he  now  found  to  be  not 
only  a  convenient  but  also  a  becoming  addition.  Having 
likewise,  seen  the  mustache  universally  worn  in  the  Levant 
by  good  as  well  as  by  bad  men,  my  father  had  become 
accustomed  to  regard  it  as  without  sin.  He  was  resolved 
therefore,  to  keep  his  mustache.  This  required  some 
courage,  for  in  America  at  that  time  the  mustache  was 
considered  the  attribute  of  sports,  gamblers,  and  bold,  bad 
dragoons,  of  all  that  class,  in  fact,  who  defy  public 
opinion  or  lead  reckless  lives.  My  grandmother  vowed 
that  she  would  stay  at  home  when  her  son  preached,  which 
she  had  not  done  from  infancy,  except  in  illness,  unless  the 
obnoxious  mustache  came  off.  What  is  more,  she  meant 
every  word.    And  so  the  mustache  came  off ! 

yiy  grandmother  Benjamin  was  a  most  excellent,  kind- 
hearted  woman,  and  I  am  sure  that  sometimes  she 
must  have  suffered  keenly  between  her  natural  sympathies 
and  the  strict  sense  of  duty  required  in  those  days  of 
one  who  had  been  brought  up  in  Puritan  orthodoxy.  I 
carried  her  foot  stove  to  the  meeting-house  on  the  hill. 
and  did  my  best  to  keep  from  falling  off  the  high  pew 
with  drowsiness  during  the  long  disquisitions  from  the 
pulpit,  in  a  building  so  cold  that  the  ])reath  seemed  to 
freeze  before  it  could  float  the  aspirations  of  the  pious 
to  the  upper  sanctuary.  The  famous  Saturday  evening 
meetings  held  in  her  parlour  for  many  years,  and  well 
remembered  by  many  Williams  graduates  who  became 
ministers  and  missionaries,  were  my  distinct  and  pet  aver- 
sion, because  I  was  quite  too  young  to  appreciate  them, 
and  the  entire  evening  I  would  be  tortured  with  a  drowsi- 
ness horrible  enough  to  have  been  sent  by  the  Evil  One  him- 
self, a  torment  poorly  compensated  by  the  savory  tidbits 

59 


tliat  steamed  on  her  hospitable  table.  To  this  day  I  also 
look  back  with  amazement  to  the  ghastly  New  England 
custom,  which  my  good  father  never  observed  except  when 
at  Williamstown,  out  of  respect  to  his  mother,  the  cus- 
tom of  beginning  the  sabbath  on  Saturday  evening 
directly  the  sun  dropped  down  behind  the  hills  with 
a  sort  of  parting  malicious  gleam,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  as 
though  he  would  say,  "Now,  small  boys,  look  out!"  Satur- 
da}^  afternoon  was  a  half  holiday,  the  only  one  during  the 
Aveek  of  long  school  hours.  Imagine  then  what  double- 
dyed  misery  it  was  to  keep  in  mind  during  the  whole  of 
that  short  afternoon  that  I  must  be  home  before  sun- 
down. Although  doing  the  best  I  could,  it  yet  happened 
several  times  that  I  reached  home  a  few  seconds  after  the 
carefully  watched  sun  had  dipped  below  the  rim  of  the 
hills  in  the  west,  I  am  convinced,  on  reflecting  over  the 
matter  in  later  years,  that  I  was  occasionally  on  time, 
Av^hen  seemingly  late,  because  my  grandmother's  house, 
being  nearer  the  hills,  caused  the  sun  to  seem  to  set 
earlier  than  it  actually  did.  But  no  mercy  was  shown,  no 
possible  palliations  were  considered  on  account  of  my  ex- 
treme youth  or  prior  ignorance  of  the  custom  or  absence 
of  a  watch  in  my  pocket.  The  sabbath  had  to  be  kept 
holy  whatever  the  hour  when  it  began,  and  hence,  if  late, 
I  was  immediately  sent  supperless  to  bed.  This  severity 
I  am  willing  to  believe  went  "against  the  grain"  with  my 
grandmother ;  she  merely  acted  according  to  her  train- 
ing and  conscience ;  but  in  my  case,  at  least,  such  a  course 
naturally  aroused  a  deep  sense  of  injustice  and  wrong, 
wliich  I  was  too  young  to  analyze  exactly  or  to  resent 
with  safety,  but  which  gave  me  a  permanent  aversion  to 
strict    Sabbatarianism   and   all   attempts    to   hound   souls 

60 


into  heaven  by  violence  or  law.  "More  flies  are  caught 
by  molasses  than  by  vinegar !"  From  that  day  to  this, 
I  have  been  strongly  and  unswervingly  opposed  to  sump- 
tuary laws,  to  controlling  men  by  man-made  interpreta- 
tions of  scriptural  laws,  to  forcing  one's  opinions  on 
others,  or  having  laws  except  for  the  protection  of  life 
and  property,  or  to  severity  in  administering  penalties  ex- 
cept for  deliberate  and  unnecessary  crime. 

I  am  reminded  in  this  connection  of  an  incident  that 
occurred  to  me  in  the  winter  of  1846.  Dr.  Scuddcr,  the 
famous  missionary  to  India,  visited  Williamstown  that 
season,  conducted  services  for  young  and  old,  and  at- 
tracted much  interest  by  tlie  fervor  of  his  manner.  Learn- 
ing my  parentage,  he  put  to  me  the  pointed  question, 
"Do  you  wish  to  be  a  missionary  .P"  It  came  as  a  shock 
to  me,  for  I  was  a  mere  lad,  ten  years  old,  fond  of  sport 
and  reading,  but  having  never  given  a  thought  to  my 
future  vocation.  As  I  was  probably  so  constituted  as 
never  to  be  fitted  for  missionary  work,  this  question  put 
me  on  my  guard,  and  for  years  I  actually  suffered  from 
dread  that  I  might  be  influenced  to  become  a  foreign  mis- 
sionary !  I  never  had  a  desire  to  be  one  and  I  may  frankly 
say  that  I  have  never  been  able  to  believe  that  the  men  and 
women  and  youth  I  met  and  associated  with  in  the  East, 
were  so  very  much  worse  than  the  people  at  home  as  to 
require  to  be  raked  and  disturbed.  According  to  our 
light  and  advantages,  I  cannot  perceive  that  we  are  much 
better  ethically,  as  a  people,  than  they. 

About  that  period  I  remember  meeting  Mrs.  Sigourney, 
the  poetess.  She  resided  in  Hartford,  and  she  and  my 
mother  were  life  long  friends.  They  corresponded  for 
years,    and   most    of   ~Mrs.    Sigourney's    works,    with    her 

61 


autograph  on  the  title  page,  found  their  way  to  our 
parlor  table.  Mrs.  Sigourney's  prose  and  verse  enjoyed 
a  wide  reputation  in  America  at  that  time.  Much  of  it 
was  commonplace ;  but  some  of  her  occasional  verses  had 
gleams  of  genius,  like  her  ode  on  the  return  of  the  body 
of  Napoleon,  which  contained  some  thrilling  passages,  and 
was  justly  honored  by  the  gift  of  a  gold  necklace  from 
Queen  Amelic.  As  I  remember  Mrs.  Sigourney  the  last 
time  I  saw  her,  standing  on  her  portico,  and  the  lights 
and  shadows  of  the  vines  playing  on  her  figure,  she  was 
rather  a  handsome  woman.  Her  complexion  was  a  warm, 
clear  blonde,  and  her  ample  white  brow  was  wreathed 
with  brown  ringlets.  Her  manner  was  ladylike  and  re- 
fined, although  slightly  formal  and  decidedly  self  con- 
scious. Poor  woman !  she  had  her  sorrows  as  well  as 
triumphs.  It  is  worth  stating  here  that  my  mother  in 
those  days  and  sometimes  at  a  later  time  wrote  some 
beautiful  poems   which   had   considerable   circulation. 

After  his  return  to  America,  my  father  proposed  to 
settle  down  as  pastor  of  a  country  parish,  and  in  due 
course  received  a  call  that  was  satisfactory.  But  during 
the  interval  my  mother's  health,  greatly  strengthened  by 
the  long  sea  voyage,  had  been  still  further  improved,  and 
apparently  entirely  restored.  My  father's  ability,  ex- 
perience and  knowledge  of  foreign  languages  were  ac- 
quisitions the  Board  were  anxious  to  retain  for  the  mis- 
sionary field.  At  the  last  moment,  therefore,  it  was  de- 
cided that  we  should  go  back  to  the  Levant.  I  think  my 
grandmother  was  pleased  with  this  decision  ;  for,  although 
it  was  a  sore  trial  to  relinquish  her  son  again,  probably 
forever,  she  felt  about  the  question  much  like  a  patriotic 
Spartan   mother,  who,  when  the  call  to   arms   summoned 

62 


the  citizens  to  fight  for  their  country,  was  proud  to  see 
her  son  foremost  among  the  brave,  living  or  dead.  It  is 
difficult  to  realize  in  this  inishing,  material  generation 
what  a  tremendous  energy  the  foreign  missionary  spirit 
once  was,  what  zeal  it  displayed,  what  sacrifices  were  in- 
volved for  those  who  went  and  for  those  who  remained 
at  home.  Perhaps  this  did  not  imply  that  there  is  less 
earnest  altruism  now  than  then,  but  more  avenues  for  the 
expression  of  religious  benevolence  have  opened  at  home 
and,  the  seed  having  been  sown,  there  is  less  need  for 
active  missionary  pioneering  abroad.  Hence  the  mani- 
festation of  the  missionary  spirit  has  taken  another  form 
adapted  to  other  fields,  and  in  any  case  is  attended  with 
far  less  sacrifice  than  formerly. 

Before  sailing  Ave  went  to  Williamstown  to  say  fare- 
well to  the  numerous  members  of  my  father's  family 
living  there.  The  last  reunion  was  at  the  home  of  my 
aunt,  Abbie  Sabin,  wife  of  Dr.  Sabin,  a  trustee  of  the 
college.  We  dined  arovuid  one  large  table,  twenty-two 
in  all. 

We  took  passage  at  Boston  in  the  bark  Harriet  T. 
Bartlett,  Elisha  Baker,  master.  Why  we  should  have 
selected  that  season  for  such  a  voyage  is  beyond  my  com- 
prehension. On  the  day  of  sailing  the  secretary  of  the 
Board  and  a  number  of  Christian  brethren  came  down 
to  the  ship  to  bid  us  Godspeed.  A  brief  service  of 
prayer  and  praise  was  held  in  the  small  cabin,  more  or 
less  interrupted  by  the  shrill  orders  of  the  officers,  the 
chanty  songs  of  the  crew,  the  quick  stamp  of  feet,  and 
the  creak  of  blocks  and  slatting  of  sails.  If  Providence 
hears  petitions  for  material  benefits,  then  we  certainly 
needed  praying  for,  in  view  of  the  perils  we  were  about 

63 


to  encounter.  The  snow  lay  cold  on  the  roofs  and  wharves 
of  Boston  and  on  the  islands  in  the  harbor ;  the  water 
looked  like  molten  lead,  and  the  sky  lowered  grim  in  the 
offing  as  we  slipped  away  from  Long  Wharf  under  can- 
vas. The  law  of  storms  had  not  yet  been  codified  by 
Maury,  Thom,  and  Fitzroy,  and  no  official  warnings 
guided  the  movements  of  shipping. 

Not  a  moment  was  lost  after  sailing  to  put  everything 
to  rights  in  the  cabin  before  the  winds  and  waves  should 
bring  on  the  seasickness  that  would  make  it  impossible 
for  many  of  the  crew  as  well  as  the  passengers  to  do  any- 
thing but  lie  groaning  in  the  berths.  What  sort  of  a  task 
my  parents,  and  especially  my  mother,  had  before  them 
may  be  inferred  from  a  description  of  the  ship.  The 
Harriet  T.  Bartlett  was  a  bark  that  measured  only  190 
tons,  a  little  more  than  half  the  tonnage  of  the  Sfamhul. 

She  was  a  trim,  staunch  little  ship,  a  trifle  longer 
than  a  New  York  pilot  boat,  but  more  full,  deep,  and 
broad.  The  cabin  and  forecastle  or  sailor's  quarters  were 
on  deck,  a  recent  Yankee  innovation  in  the  direction  of 
economy,  the  space  they  had  formerly  occupied  being 
devoted  to  cargo ;  naturally  such  a  vessel  would  be  loaded 
deeper  than  one  with  the  cabins  below.  At  that  time  this 
innovation  was  considered  a  doubtful  experiment,  and  I 
remember  that  my  mother  hesitated  about  going  in  this 
vessel  on  that  account.  Our  cabin,  to  the  best  of  my  recol- 
lection, was  about  thirty-six  feet  long,  with  an  average 
width  of  about  eighteen  feet.  Out  of  this  space,  in  order 
to  judge  of  the  size  of  our  own  quarters,  must  be  deducted 
the  two  small  staterooms  of  the  captain  and  his  wife,  and 
the  two  mates  and  the  steward's  pantry  and  the  bath 
closet  diagonally  opposite.     This  left  an  irregular  saloon 

64 


about  fifteen  feet  long  and  sixteen  feet  at  the  widest. 
On  each  side  of  this  saloon  were  four  berths  in  two  tiers. 
In  the  centre  was  the  common  table  where  we  ate,  screwed 
firmly  to  the  floor,  and  having  a  settee  on  each  side  with 
a  movable  back,  cushioned  with  a  slippery  hair-cloth 
and  also  clinched  fast  to  the  deck  or  floor.  As  there  were 
no  staterooms  for  the  passengers  all  the  privacy  we  could 
obtain  was  by  fixing  brass  rods  a  foot  and  a  half  from  the 
berths,  on  which  curtains  travelled  by  means  of  brass 
rings.  In  this  contracted  space,  shared  partly  with  others, 
my  parents  and  four  children,  the  oldest  ten  years,  were 
expected  to  brave  the  rigors  of  winter  on  the  raging 
Atlantic  and  scarcely  less  boisterous  Mediterranean.  That 
was  the  way  missionaries  went  to  the  East  then,  but  it  is 
not  the  way  they  go  now !  I  have  no  recollection  of  any 
stove  in  the  cabin.  It  is  my  impression  that  we  were  to 
keep  warm  on  hope  and  faith  until  we  struck  the  Gulf 
Stream,  and  after  that  blow  on  our  fingers  and  continue 
to  cuddle  around  the  hearthstone  of  hope  and  faith.  This, 
mind  you,  was  in  the  sweet  month  of  December,  1846. 

The  menu  was  the  same  as  on  the  Stamhul,  salt  meats, 
and  coffee  and  tea  without  milk  and  strong  as  lye.  Two 
items  of  improvement  should  be  mentioned.  Captain 
Baker  had  his  wife  along  with  him,  a  genial,  refined  lady 
who  always  accompanied  her  husband  and  did  her  best 
to  smooth  his  irascible  temper.  It  was  due  to  Mrs. 
Baker  that  we  had  pie  for  dinner — she  made  it  herself — 
and  hot  biscuits  and  steaming  apple  sauce  for  supper. 
It  was  only  in  the  heaviest  weather  that  these  dishes  were 
omitted.  How  well  I  remember  the  apple  sauce  of  those 
wild  winter  evenings  on  the  bark  Harriet  T.  BartJett,  as 
we  all  sat  around  the  cabin  table,  the  dishes  kept  from 

65 


slipping  off  by  heavy  racks,  and  the  dim,  swinging  lamp 
lighting  up  the  faces  of  old  and  young  as  we  chatted 
merrily  together  in  our  floating  home,  while  the  wind 
wailed  in  the  rigging  and  beat  the  ropes  against  the 
masts. 


66 


CHAPTER    III, 

SMYRNA  AND  EARTHQUAKES. 

My  fatlicr  was  designated  to  the  Armenians  and  Greeks 
of  Smyrna,  numbering  about  three-fifths  of  its  popula- 
tion. Whatever  that  city  may  be  now,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  modern  innovations,  it  was  then  a  charming  resi- 
dence for  those  who  enjoy  the  blending  of  Oriental  life 
and  scenery  with  semi-European  society  and  customs. 
The  port  was  always  enlivened  by  shipping  coming  in, 
or  by  vessels  which  lay  at  anchor.  Smyrna  was  an  im- 
portant naval  station,  and  men-of-war,  sometimes  entire 
fleets,  lay  there.  I  remember  seeing  a  fleet  of  eight  French 
line  of  battle  ships,  five  frigates,  and  several  vessels  come 
in  under  scudding  sails  before  a  staving  breeze,  their 
black  sides  bristling  with  long  tiers  of  guns,  and  every 
sail  bellying  to  the  wind,  white  and  gleaming  as  driven 
snow.  Suddenly  the  boatswains'  whistles  piped  shrilly 
from  ship  to  ship,  every  sail  came  in  at  once,  and  as  the 
stately  fabrics  rounded  to  their  anchorage  simultaneously, 
the  crews  swarmed  up  the  rigging  by  thousands  to  furl 
the  sails.  Say  what  you  will  about  it,  I  am  bold  to  affirm 
that  such  a  magnificent  naval  spectacle  will  never  be 
seen  again  by  mortal  eye. 

The  quarter  of  Smyrna  occupied  by  the  Turks,  the 
dominant  race,  was  eff'ectively  massed  on  the  slope  of  tlie 

67 


elevation  called  Mount  Pagos,  from  the  water  to  the  rums 
of  the  old  Roman  citadel.  In  this  part  of  the  city  were 
included  the  tomb  of  Polycarp,  the  bazaars,  barracks  of 
the  garrison,  water  batteries,  mosques  and  minarets  and 
palace  of  the  governor.  It  was  flanked  by  the  vast  proces- 
sion of  dark,  towering  cypresses  which  mark  a  Turkish 
cemetery. 

Along  the  water  front  of  the  Frank  quarter  ran  the 
marino,  or  sea  esplanade,  where  picturesque  boats  were 
constantly  seen  as  well  as  the  launches  of  foreign  war 
ships  whose  crews  sang  in  melodious  chorus  by  moonlight 
while  the  officers  were  playing  billiards  or  attending  balls. 
This  was  the  favorite  promenade  of  the  Franks  :  but  if 
one  was  in  search  of  feminine  loveliness  it  was  in  the 
Greek  quarter  that  he  would  look,  rather  than  among  the 
nondescript  foreign  and  eurasian  population  knoAvn  as 
Franks.  The  Greek  and  Armenian  quarters  lay  north 
and  east,  and  it  was  among  the  former  especially  that  one 
looked  for  the  famed  beauties  of  Smyrna. 

The  Frank  quarters  of  Smyrna  had  one  remarkable 
feature.  For  a  good  part  of  a  mile,  between  Frank 
Street,  its  main  thoroughfare,  and  the  Marino,  there 
was  an  unbroken  row  of  parallel  lanes  or  courts  connect- 
ing those  two  streets.  Each  court  belonged  to  one  pro- 
prietor, be  it  an  individual  or  a  company.  For  the  most 
part  these  courts  were  open  at  both  ends  during-  the  day, 
and  one  could  thus  pass  through  from  one  street  to  the 
other  except  with  caravans.  But  at  sunset  they  ceased 
to  be  thoroughfares,  and  were  firmly  closed  with  massive 
iron  bound  gates,  yielding  access  only  to  actual  resi- 
dents within  and  their  guests.  Each  court  had  tAvo  or 
more  porters,  who  carried  burdens  by  day,  and  mounted 

68 


guard  by  night.  They  were  invariabl}'  Turks,  as  bemg 
by  far  the  most  honest,  courageous,  and  reliable  of  all 
the  native  populations.  Magnificent  fellows  they  were, 
large,  massively  built,  powerful,  trained  for  the  business. 
The  porters'  lodge  was  just  within  the  Frank  Street  gate; 
many  a  time  have  I  seen  them  at  nightfall,  saying  their 
prayers  devoutly  on  the  prayer  rug,  or  preparing  the 
evening  meal  on  the  mangal  or  earthpan  of  live  coals,  or 
quietly  smoking  the  tchibook.  These  sons  of  Anak  wore 
large  turbans,  baggy  trousers,  and  heavy  beards,  and  were 
provided  with  formidable  yataghans  and  flintlock  pistols. 
Whoever  attemped  unlawfully  to  enter  the  court  at  night 
met  with  scant  mercy  at  their  hands.  And  yet  they  were 
proudl}^  deferential  to  their  superiors,  affable  in  their 
manners,  and,  like  all  genuine  Turks,  fond  of  children, 
gentle  and  almost  playful  with  them. 

Such  precautions  were  necessary  because  the  neighbor- 
hood abounded  with  desperadoes,  the  police  force  was 
crude,  and  these  courts  contained  the  consulates  and 
the  counting  houses  and  magazines  of  wealthy  merchants 
engaged  in  foreign  trade.  The  offices  were  on  the  ground 
floor.  On  the  floor  above  were  one  or  more  dwellings  or 
flats,  occupied  by  the  owner  and  by  respectable  tenants. 
These  dwellings,  overlooking  Frank  Street  or  the  Marino, 
could  be  reached  only  by  the  gates  at  either  end.  They 
were  built  of  stone  and  sometimes  each  apartment  was 
roofed  with  a  dome  as  a  protection  against  earthquakes. 
Naturally  such  buildings  were  made  to  last  for  ages ;  they 
were  as  strong  as  fortresses.  A  portion  of  the  roof  of 
the  ground  floor  was  invariably  not  built  upon ;  thus 
a  flat  terrace  or  roof  garden,  protected  by  a  low,  massive 
parapet  was  left  for  the  occupants  of  the  dwellings.     On 

69 


those  terraces  the  family  promenaded  at  twilight  or 
slept  in  warm  weather  when  they  were  not  at  the  country 
resorts,  while  the  boys,  by  no  means  the  least  important 
members  of  the  community,  flew  their  kites  from  them 
and  watched  the  incoming  ships. 

Smyrna  was  in  those  days  the  world's  chief  emporium 
for  the  market  in  dried  figs.  There  being  no  railway  in 
Turkey  then,  during  the  fig  season  the  fruit  was  brought 
to  Smyrna  by  vast  caravans  of  camels.  For  weeks  the 
bells  of  the  camels  were  heard  day  and  night  as  these 
living  freight  trains  marched  into  the  city.  At  the  head 
of  each  train  rode  the  camel  driver,  encased  in  a  huge 
sheepskin  cloak,  that  served  a  variety  of  purposes,  and 
mounted  on  a  donkey  scarcely  larger  than  a  St.  Bernard 
dog,  but  whose  toughness  and  strength  were  in  inverse 
ratio  to  his  size. 

Smyrna,  in  the  forties,  was  like  a  sieve  through  which 
passed  the  current  of  European  travel  in  the  East.  There 
were  no  railways,  and  comparatively  few  steamers,  and 
most  of  the  latter  touched  at  Smyrna  as  a  distributing 
point  for  travel  as  well  as  for  commerce.  In  this  way 
many  tourists  and  sightseers  passed  our  way,  whom  my 
father,  with  native  hospitality,  invited  to  his  house. 
Among  them,  a  German  baron,  who  soon  requested  the 
favor  of  a  small  loan,  with  apologies  that  his  drafts  had 
been  unexpectedly  delayed.  Baron  Friedel  had  shown  a 
number  of  his  drawings,  indicating  a  good  artist  in  black 
and  white,  or  pencil  drawing,  and  my  father  with  some 
shrewdness  suggested  a  way  to  relieve  the  Baron's  em- 
barrassment, by  his  giving  to  the  children  of  the  family 
bi-weekly  drawing  lessons  In  return  for  his  board.  Thus 
began   my  first   education   in   art.      Everything  was    rosy 

70 


for  awhile,  wc  children  took  hold  with  zeal  and  our  in- 
structor seemed  interested,  but  this  soon  waned,  as  time 
elapsed,  and  the  so-called  baron  failed  to  fulfill  obliga- 
tions, and  my  father  was  obliged  to  decline  longer  to  en- 
tertain him.  Up  to  this  time  I  had  shown  no  marked 
vocation  for  art.  What  I  had  done  had  been  in  the  direc- 
tion of  an  artisan,  rather  than  an  artist.  My  father  had 
given  me  a  small  set  of  tools  (he  was  always  mindful  of 
my  welfare),  and  I  was  extravagantly  fond  of  using  them, 
making  pigeon  cotes,  flagstaifs,  kites  and  ship  models, 
some  of  them  were  elaborate  and  executed  with  technical 
obserA'ation  of  nautical  distinctions  in  shape  and  rig.  One 
of  these  models  was  a  frigate  made  to  a  scale  with  every 
sail  fitted  to  hoist  and  lower,  anchors,  guns,  and  the  like. 
But  the  first  lesson  I  took  with  Baron  Friedel  acted  as 
decisively  as  the  first  chapter  of  Peter  Parley's  histor}^ 
which  I  read,  as  already  stated,  at  Trebizond.  From  that 
day  to  this  I  have  been  passionately  fond  of  my  brush  and 
pencil,  a  passion  that  has  sometimes  slumbered  only  to 
awake  with  renewed  vigor.  My  father  bought  me  a  sketch 
book,  and  wherever  I  went  I  sketched  from  nature,  ships, 
landscapes,  old  picturesque  buildings  and  figures. 

As  the  potential  events  or  incidents  in  our  lives  come 
in  groups,  it  happened  soon  after  Baron  Friedel  departed, 
that  I  became  acquainted  with  a  local  Armeniai.  lithog- 
rapher named  Tatikian.  He  was  but  a  middling  artist, 
but  he  knew  far  more  than  I  did,  and  his  subjects,  drawn 
from  street  scenes  to  sell  to  travellers,  attracted  me.  He 
was  Avilling  that  I  should  visit  his  studio  and  see  him  work. 
From  his  patience  in  representing  detail  I  also  learned 
patience  and  care.  Then  followed  another  source  of  sug- 
gestion for  shading,  the  expression   of  foliage  and   rapid 

71 


sketcliing  from  nature.  The  hints  I  received  from  these 
latter  points  were  given  me  by  the  Van  Lennep  brothers, 
who,  when  they  saw  my  interest  in  drawing,  very  kindly 
looked  over  my  sketches,  encouraged  me  to  proceed,  and 
showed  me  how  to  put  into  practice  the  rudimentary  prin- 
ciples of  drawing. 

The  Van  Lenneps  were  an  old  and  wealthy  family  of 
Dutch  descent,  engaged  in  business  and  consular  duties 
at  Smyrna  for  over  a  century.  They  had  intermarried 
with  English  and  French  families,  but  continued  staunch 
protestants,  and  for  respectability  and  integrity  were 
among  the  first  families  of  the  European  colonies  of  the 
Levant.  The  Dutch  consular  chapel  was  at  the  disposal 
of  the  American  missionaries,  and  Jacob  Van  Lennep, 
consul  while  we  were  there,  and  at  the  time  quite  aged, 
was  one  of  the  noblest  gentlemen  I  have  met.  The 
family  owned  a  large  tchiflik  or  farmstead  some  hours 
out  in  the  country,  where  the  brothers  would  take  a 
rational  relaxation  from  business  in  sports  of  the  chase. 
They  kept  their  gamekeepers,  dogs,  falcons,  etc.,  at  the 
tchiflik,  and  often  brought  down  leopards,  wolves,  or 
wild  boar,  not  to  speak  of  hare,  partridges  or  other 
feathered  game.  They  kept  two  large  books  of  record, 
and  in  the  evening,  after  an  exciting  hunt,  one  of  them 
would  record  the  incidents  of  the  day  with  his  pen,  while 
another  would,  in  the  other  book,  sketch  with  his  pencil 
the  most  pictorial  scenes  of  the  hunt. 

My  other  studies  were  pursued  in  a  rather  desultory 
manner  much  of  the  time,  although  when  I  did  study  it 
was  done  in  earnest  and  I  have  no  recollection  of  trying 
to  shirk  or  prepare  my  tasks  in  a  slovenly  manner.  But 
I  learned  with  facility  and  that  gave  me  the  more  leisure 


72 


for  reading  and  sport.  French,  ancient  Greek,  and  Ar- 
menian I  studied  with  inexpensive  tutors  who  came  to  the 
house,  a  common  method  with  the  European  youth  of 
Smyrna.  Latin  I  pursued  with  my  father.  It  came  so 
easily  that  I  soon  reached  Virgil,  with  facility,  and  to  this 
day  the  Aeneid  is  one  of  my  favorite  poems. 

One  summer  that  we  passed  in  the  subvirban  village  of 
Bournabat  I  attended  the  so-called  Smyrna  College  to 
acquire  a  closer  discipline  in  Greek  and  French.  This  in- 
stitution resembled  what  we  called  a  preparatory  school, 
and  included  youths  of  any  age.  It  was  under  English 
auspices,  although  Roman  Catholics  and  Greeks  and 
one  or  two  Turks  attended  it  as  well  as  English  boys. 
The  principal  was  an  Englishman  named  Turrell.  He 
was  tall,  handsome,  athletic,  well  built,  a  Cambridge  man, 
a  good  scholar,  a  capital  shot,  and  a  brutal  disciplinarian. 
He  had  the  manners  of  a  captain  of  the  Dragoons,  and 
indeed  he  was  aid  to  Lord  Raglan  afterward  in  the  Crimea. 
Flogging  was  frequent  and  severe,  and  his  habitual  weapon 
was  a  lash  of  rhinoceros  hide,  which  brought  out  howls 
of  pain.  Greatly  differing  from  Mr.  Turrell  was  my 
French  teacher,  jM.  de  Cours,  who  was  drowned  while 
bathing,  and  his  body  never  recovered.  The  day  before  he 
had  been  explaining  to  me  in  his  winning  way,  the  sar- 
castic humor  of  La  Fontaine's  Fables,  and  now  his  voice 
would  never  be  heard  again !  I  remember  that  it  seemed 
passing  strange  to  my  young  mind  that  the  sky  could  be 
so  blue  and  cloudless,  the  sun  so  bright,  the  song  of  the 
birds  so  merry,  when  such  a  terrible  drama  threw  a  pall 
over  the  heart,  and  while  all  about  me,  and  I  myself, 
were  moving  inevitably  to  the  same  unseen  bourne  of 
which  no  one  knows  and  from  which  no  one  returns.      I 


73 


walked  home  quite  overcome  by  these  reflections,  nor  do 
I  yet  see  any  adequate  explanation  of  these  mysteries. 

When  Mr.  Turrell  sundered  his  connection  with  the 
Smyrna  College,  the  Trustees,  before  sending  to  England 
for  another  principal,  came  to  my  father,  although  an 
American,  and  urged  him  to  accept  the  vacant  chair.  It 
was  a  great  compliment  to  his  modesty,  scholarship,  and 
judgment;  he  appreciated  it  as  such,  and  therefore  held 
tlic  question  under  advisement  for  several  days.  Undoubt- 
edly the  position  was  one  not  to  be  hastily  declined.  The 
salary  was  quite  in  excess  of  a  missionary's ;  the  office  gave 
the  incumbent  a  foremost  rank  not  only  in  the  European 
colony  but  in  the  Levant  as  well ;  in  the  hands  of  the 
right  man  it  offered  a  growing  sphere  of  influence,  similar 
to  that  subsequently  won  by  the  famous  Robert  College 
at  Constantinople.  If  my  father  had  accepted  the  place, 
with  his  exceptional  qualifications  he  might  have  ante- 
dated the  enterprise  of  Dr.  Hamlin  in  a  similar  direction. 
But  having  decided  once  for  all  to  be  a  missionary  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  term,  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  decline 
this  flattering  invitation. 

But  I  have  not  yet  spoken  of  an  educating  factor  which 
in  those  days  had  as  much  to  do  with  my  development  as 
tutors  and  textbooks.  Although  as  passionately  devoted 
to  sport  as  any  boy  that  ever  lived,  I  was  equally  fond  of 
reading.  Strange  to  say  I  was  more  interested  in  solid 
matter  than  in  fiction.  A  liistory  of  a  true  narrative  of 
adventure  had  greater  attraction  for  me  than  a  novel 
pure  and  simple.  For  this  reason  Robinson  Crusoe,  usual- 
ly more  interesting  to  boys  than  men,  held  my  attention 
less  at  that  time  than  it  has  done  in  later  years  when  I 
have   learned    to    see   the    matchless    quality    of    its    style 

74 


and  the  verities  of  life  and  character  which  teem  in  its 
fascinating  pages.  The  educating  factor  to  which  I  al- 
kided  above  was  the  library  of  Mr.  Adger.  My  father 
took  the  place  at  Smyrna  which  had  been  vacated  by  the 
resignation  of  Rev.  John  B.  Adger,  who  was  a  scion  of 
one  of  the  first  families  of  South  Carolina. 

When  Mr.  Adger  left  Smyrna  he  generously  donated 
his  valuable  library  to  the  mission  station.  It  contained 
several  thousand  volumes  of  miscellaneous  literature.  The 
missionaries  had  no  leisure  to  devote  to  it,  or  were  suf- 
ficiently supplied  already.  The  library  was  therefore 
kept  locked  in  a  dark  room  and  apparently  forgotten.  I 
learned  of  its  existence  accidently,  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore I  had  the  key  with  permission  to  browse  among  the 
books  at  will.  It  proved  a  perfect  mine.  Many  a  precious 
hour  did  I  pass  in  that  room  alone,  pouring  over  books 
of  every  description  in  English,  French,  Greek  and  Latin. 
Of  course  I  was  yet  too  young  to  fully  appreciate  every- 
thing that  I  read  there,  but  still  it  was  an  education  to 
me,  for  what  one  reads  under  such  circumstances,  when 
the  attention  is  undistracted  and  the  tablets  of  the  mem- 
ory are  fresh,  is  hot  on.ly  remembered  but  becomes  in- 
corporated into  the  very  fibre  of  one's  being. 

One  of  the  American  missionaries  at  Smyrna  was  the 
Rev.  T.  P.  Johnston.  Pk'ontis,  his  oldest  son,  was  a  bright 
talented  youth,  who  later  became  a  prominent  southern 
clergyman.  He  was  three  years  my  elder,  but  as  we  as- 
sociated together  pleasantly,  that  fact  proved  of  use  to 
me,  as  he  led  me  on  and  served  as  an  exemplar.  He  started 
the  first  youth's  newspaper  ever  issued  in  the  Levant. 
What  inspired  the  idea  I  have  forgotten ;  but  it  was  al- 
most  like   an    inspiration    of   genius,    for   nothing   of   the 


75 


sort  had  ever  been  heard  of  before  in  that  region,  since 
they  flashed  the  news  of  the  fall  of  Troy  across  the  Aegean 
with  bonfires.  It  was  called  The  Smyrna  Star.  William, 
his  next  oldest  brother,  afterwards  a  Skull  and  Bones  man 
at  Yale,  and  I,  were  associate  editors.  This  was  my  first 
connection  with  any  periodical.  I  was  then  thirteen  years 
old.  Our  model  was  l'  Impartial,  a  French  paper  pub- 
lished at  Smyrna.  Like  most  French  newspapers  it  had 
its  feuilleton  or  original  romance  across  the  lower  third 
of  the  pages.  There  was  also  a  digest  of  home  and  foreign 
news,  local  gossip,  shipping  intelligence,  including  notes 
about  the  movements  of  men-of-war,  missionary  intelli- 
gence, correspondence  from  Constantinople  and  a  pot- 
pouri  of  anecdotes  and  riddles.  It  filled  a  compact  folio 
sheet,  and,  of  course,  was  entirely  in  manuscript,  for  we 
could  not  afford  the  public  press ;  and  typewriters,  hecto- 
graphs, and  the  like  were  then  unknown.  Dividing  the 
work  among  ourselves,  we  contrived  to  make  several 
copies  of  each  number,  which  were  creditably  executed. 
They  were  readily  subscribed  for,  and  the  proceeds  ad- 
ded materially  to  the  indispensable  pocket  money  required 
for  the  colored  paper  and  twine  for  our  kites,  paint  for 
our  boats,  and  katemarias  at  the  pastry  cooks,  the  lat- 
ter being  one  of  the  special  luxuries  for  which  Smyrna 
was  famous.  The  success  of  the  Smyrna  Star  led  the 
missionary  boys  at  Constantinople  to  start  a  rival  sheet 
called  The  Bebek  Messenger.  I  was  placed  on  the  staff 
of  that  paper  as  Smyrna  correspondent,  and  eventually 
became  one  of  its  editors.  What  with  one  thing  and  an- 
other, my  time  was  fully  occupied  in  those  days ! 

As    may   be    surmised    by    the    foregoing    pages,    I  as- 
associated  at  Smyrna  with  the  native  boys  far  more  than 

76 


when  at  Athens.  My  parents,  while  strict  within  certain 
limits,  were  anxious  that  I  should  learn  self  reliance,  and 
gain  culture  from  observation  and  experience  no  less  than 
from  books. 

My  companions  were  therefore  of  mixed  and  various 
characters,  English,  Greeks,  Franks  or  Levantines,  Ar- 
menians, and  occasionally  Turks.  I  saw  a  great  deal  of 
every  variety  of  Oriental  life,  and  obtained  an  insight  into 
more  phases  of  national  character  and  customs  than  often 
falls  to  youth.  There  w^ere  many  English  boys  of  my 
own  age,  some  of  them  fine,  w^holesouled  fellows,  good 
fighters  but  at  the  same  time  straightforward  and  manly. 
We  Avere  very  chummy  together,  more  than  with  boys  of 
other  nations,  for  after  all  blood  is  thicker  than  water, 
and  the  use  of  a  common  language  was  a  strong  tie.  But 
the  national  sentiment  was  also  strong  in  us,  and  each 
stood  up  stoutly  for  the  land  from  which  his  parents 
came.  We  chaifed  each  other,  and  often  came  to  blows, 
but  this  only  led  to  mutual  respect  and  esteem. 

Sometimes,  during  the  summer  in  the  country,  we  Eng- 
lish speaking  boys  would  unite  to  beat  off  the  gang  of 
Greek  rowdies  who  would  make  a  dead  set  at  us.  Form- 
ing in  a  line,  the  opposing  forces  fought  with  stones  in 
the  open  or  behind  trees  when  possible.  If  our  side 
gained  on  the  enemy,  we  would  make  a  combined  rush  with 
sticks  and  switches,  and  give  them  a  sound  thrashing. 
Sometimes  severe  bruises  were  received,  and  it  is  a  wonder 
none  of  us  lost  our  lives  in  these  dangerous  bouts. 

The  suburbs  of  Smyrna  were  indescribably  Oriental  in 
character,  and  hence  rural  and  picturesque  in  the  extreme. 
The  mountains,  closing  around  the  lower  landscape  like 
an  amphitheatre,  mountains  haunted  with  classic  legends 

77 


of  the  long  past  ages,  were  bare  at  the  summit,  revealmg  a 
rich  scale  of  color.  As  they  descended  thej  became 
draped  with  heather,  thyme  and  lentisk,  which  was  grad- 
ually replaced  by  olive  groves,  tufts  of  mysterious  stone 
pine  sighing  over  the  cliffs,  vineyards,  orchards,  and  grain 
fields.  The  latter  were  crimson  for  miles  and  miles  with 
wild  poppies  or  white  with  daisies,  vast  masses  of  color, 
until  the  wheat  grew  high  as  one's  head,  swaying  in  the 
breeze  like  billows  of  the  sea  over  which  flew  the  fleet 
shadows  of  the  clouds.  Here  and  there  in  the  clearing  the 
flocks  were  seen  browsing  under  guardianship  of  the 
shaggy  wolf  dog,  while  the  sandalled  shepherd  under  an 
olive  tree  ate  his  bread  and  olives,  knit  his  coarse  stock- 
ings, or  piped  on  his  reed  flute.  The  memory  of  those 
poetic  landscapes  of  Smyrna  sometimes  lulls  me  into  the 
illusion  that  life  is  worth  living. 

Other  incidents  suggesting  the  nature  of  some  of  the 
phases  of  life  in  that  romantic  city  of  Smyrna  occur  to 
me.  But  there  must  be  a  limit  to  these  records,  especially 
as  I  was  now  about  to  turn  my  face  towards  new  scenes 
and  conditions.  It  was  greatly  to  my  regret  at  the  time, 
that  I  heard  of  the  decision  of  the  American  Board  to  con- 
centrate at  Constantinople  the  work  of  translating  and 
printing  religious  publications  for  the  Turkish  empire. 
That  this  move  was  not  decided  earlier  shows  the  tentative 
character  of  the  missionary  campaign.  It  was  only  after 
years  of  scattered  labor  at  various  points  that  American 
religious  enterprise  was  able  to  discover  the  points  of  ef- 
fective action  and  to  systematize  the  distribution  of  its 
efforts  to  produce  the  best  results.  Dr.  Riggs  and  my 
father  were  transferred,  therefore,  to  Constantinople, 
Mr.  Johnston  seized  this  occasion  to  retire  permanently 

78 


from  the  missionary  field.  In  passing  I  may  add  that 
before  relying  on  the  English  and  Greek  printers  at 
Smyrna,  the  Board  had  already  sent  an  American  printer 
to  Smyrna.  This  gentleman  had  preceded  my  father  to 
that  city  and  left  for  home  before  we  settled  in  Smyrna. 
His  name  was  Josiah  Brewer,  and  he  was  the  father  of 
the  late  Justice  J.  Brewer  of  the  U.  S.  Supreme  Court, 
who  was  born  at  Smyrna  the  year  that  I  was  born  at 
Argos  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  Aegean. 

As  adding  to  the  interest  of  my  Smyrna  days  I  may 
mention  two  or  three  noted  persons  I  met  there.  One  of 
them  was  Louis  Kassuth  with  his  family  and  suite,  when 
on  his  way  to  America  in  the  United  States  steam  frigate 
Mississippi,  which  was  subsequently  burned  in  the 
Civil  War.  We  went  on  board  the  vessel,  and  T  well  re- 
member the  distinguislied  Hungarian  and  his  generals. 
We  were  also  visited  by  Captain  Pigeal,  who  afterwards 
won  repute  as  the  commander  of  a  French  line  of  battle- 
ship in  the  Crimean  war.  He  was  one  of  those  rare  birds, 
a  French  protestant  naval  officer,  and  a  strict  and  pious 
one  at  that. 

Captain  Ingraliam,  commander  of  the  St.  Louis, 
likewise  called  on  us,  and  we  in  turn  visited  his  handsome 
corvette  and  were  cordial!}'  entertained.  His  manners 
were  polished  and  agreeable,  like  those  of  many  old  time 
southerners  when  sectional  questions  were  kept  out  of 
sight.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Captain  Ingraham  im- 
fortunately  lived  long  enough  to  turn  against  the  flag 
wliich  he  defended  so  well  in  the  Bay  of  Smyrna. 

Another  character  whom  I  met  there  was  General 
Walker,  who  was  afterwards  shot  in  Nicaragua  for  fili- 
bustering.    He  was,  as  I  remember  him,  of  medium  height. 


79 


spare  but  symmetrically  built,  had  small,  well  shaped 
hands  and  keen  blue  eyes.  Like  many  distinguished  men 
of  action  and  daring,  his  voice  was  low  and  his  ordinary 
manner  quiet  and  gentle.  I  went  with  my  father  when 
he  accompanied  General,  then  Captain,  Walker  on  board 
the  steamer  that  was  to  take  him  to  Trieste.  They  talked 
long  together  on  the  quarter  deck,  before  the  signal  for 
departure  was  given. 

Near  Smyrna  a  number  of  pretty  villages  nestled  in  the 
valleys  under  the  green  gloam  of  the  mulberries  and  lin- 
dens. Their  population  consisted  chiefly  of  small  landed 
proprietors  or  gentry,  mainly  Turks,  and  the  unambitious 
peasantry  who  tilled  the  fields  and  tended  the  flocks  for 
them.  It  was  truly  an  idyllic  scene  when  with  tinkling 
bells,  the  sheep  and  goats  returned  to  the  folds  bleating 
towards  evening  and  crowding  each  other  in  the  narrow 
lanes,  while  the  shouts  of  the  shepherds  were  not  un- 
melodious  blended  with  the  other  sounds  of  that  magical 
hour.  The  tops  of  the  tall  sentinel  cypresses  at  the  gates 
shone  rosy  in  the  last  fading  glow  of  the  setting  sun,  and 
purple  shadows  drew  a  veil  over  roof  and  garden.  Then 
all  became  still  except  the  dashing  of  the  torrent  down 
the  streets,  whose  waters  were  used  for  irrigating  the 
gardens. 

My  father  breakfasted  in  summer  precisely  at  six,  tak- 
ing with  his  family  a  light  meal  of  coffee,  eggs,  and  cool 
figs  just  plucked  from  the  trees.  He  then  rode  eight  miles 
on  horseback  to  the  city,  for  his  daily  duties,  returning 
at  evening  in  season  for  dinner.  During  the  day  my 
mother  taught  her  children  and  took  us  to  walk  among 
the  fields.  She  was  exceedingly  fond  of  walking,  and  In  this 
respect  I  have  taken  after  her.    In  the  evening  my  father 

80 


heard  my  Latin  recitation,  and  we  enjoyed  a  delightful 
home  hour  of  singing,  conversation  or  reading  aloud,  un- 
til bedtime  was  announced  for  the  young  folks. 

I  think  it  was  in  the  same  summer  that  I  had  rather  a 
disagreeable  adventure.  This  region  about  Smyrna,  as 
in  most  warm  climates,  is  infested  with  venomous  insects 
and  reptiles.  Scorpions,  centipedes  and  deadly  asps  were 
not  uncommon,  although  less  numerous  than  at  Trebizond, 
where  we  were  obliged  to  have  a  canopy  over  our  beds 
and  sweep  it  every  morning,  and  always  shook  our  shoes 
and  clothing  before  putting  them  on.  Serious  accidents 
sometimes  occurred  from  this  source  but  on  the  whole  the 
people  gave  little  thought  to  the  matter.  One  evening  we 
had  an  unpleasant  reminder,  however,  that  the  vermin 
were  by  no  means  extinct.  We  were  at  supper.  Accord- 
ing to  my  custom  the  greater  part  of  the  year  in  that 
climate,  I  was  clad  in  pumps,  short,  light  socks,  duck 
trousers,  shirt  with  open  Byron  collar,  and  a  middy's 
blue  jacket.  Suddenly  I  felt  something  creep  from  the 
stone  floor  on  my  foot  and  then  start  up  my  bare  leg.  I 
knew  at  once  from  the  sensation  what  it  must  be ;  a  centi- 
pede it  was  indeed.  It  had  not  an  hundred  feet,  but  it  had 
enough,  a  dozen  or  more  on  each  side.  To  utter  a  sound 
would  have  precipitated  a  panic  that  might  cost  me  my 
life.  I  therefore  kept  perfectly  quiet,  the  creature  mean- 
while deliberately  crawling  up  my  shin,  and  scratching 
the  skin  with  its  sharp,  homey  feet.  To  move  would  be 
to  startle  it  into  burying  its  foreceps  into  my  flesh  and 
depositing  the  poison.  To  allow  it  to  pass  my  knee  would 
also  make  it  impossible  to  act  with  it  effectually.  ISIoving 
with  the  utmost  caution,  I  clasped  my  hands  across  my 
knee  to  prevent  the  insect  from  passing  that  point;  then 

81 


saying  to  myself,  one,  two,  three,  I  shook  my  leg  sud- 
denly. The  centipede  dropped  to  the  floor,  and  I  crushed 
it  witli  my  shoe.  It  measured  six  inches.  The  bite  of 
the  centipede  is  always  exceedingly  painful,  and  often 
proves  fatal. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  families  of  Smyrna  was 
that  of  Rev.  Mr.  Lewis,  the  British  Chaplain.  We  were 
invited  to  their  country  house  for  Christmas  festivities. 
During  the  evening  a  violent  gale  of  wind  had  been  blow- 
ing. The  sky  was  clear,  but  I  distinctly  remember  that 
the  atmosphere  was  hazy.  This  phenomena  was  not  un- 
important, I  slept  in  a  room  alone,  and  was  kept  awake 
half  an  hour  by  a  cat  hunting  mice.  After  sleeping  an 
hour  I  was  rudely  awakened.  The  first  thought  was  that 
it  was  the  cat  and  mice.  But  the  next  instant,  trained  by 
experience,  I  perceived  to  my  horror  that  we  were  in  the 
midst  of  a  sharp  earthquake.  It  took  but  a  second  to 
spring  to  the  floor  and  rush  into  the  drawing  room,  which 
adjoined  my  room,  and  was  probably  the  safest  apartment 
in  the  building.  At  the  same  moment  from  all  parts  of 
the  house,  by  one  door  or  another,  the  family  rushed  in 
pell-mell  into  the  same  apartment.  There  was  just  light 
enough  to  notice  white  figures  of  every  age  and  sex,  flit- 
ting like  ghosts  through  the  doors ;  little  feminine  shrieks, 
faint  exclamations  of  surprise  and  alarm,  showed  that  it 
was  not  ghosts  but  beings,  very  human  beings  indeed,  who 
were  gathering  thus  unconventionally  in  their  robes  de 
nuit.  After  the  first  hard  shock  was  over,  and  we  found 
the  house  still  standing  minus  a  chimney  or  two  and  some 
plaster,  and  while  we  waited  for  the  next  shock  which  in- 
A'arlably  follows  a  smart  earthquake,  the  sexes  instinc- 
tively arranged  themselves  in  groups  in  opposite  corners, 

82 


and  began  to  compare  notes.  Then  followed  a  succession 
of  side-splitting  giggles  and  convulsive  tittering. 

When  the  clattering  subsided  a  sense  of  awe  succeeded, 
and  we  waited  with  the  suspense  and  apprehension  only 
they  who  have  lived  in  earthquake  lands  can  understand. 
I  then  noticed  that  the  gale  of  wind  had  entirely  stopped 
and  that  a  deathly  stillness  had  followed.  This  is  an  in- 
variable phenomena  of  earthquakes,  according  to  my  own 
observation.  An  earthquake  never  occurs  while  the  wind 
is  actually  blowing.  After  the  lapse  of  fifteen  minutes, 
we  heard  the  howding  of  dogs  and  cackling  of  fowls  re- 
newed, and  within  a  few^  seconds  a  second  shock  quivered 
through  the  land.  We  stood  breathless  until  it  passed; 
as  it  was  feebler  than  the  first  shock,  a  favorable  indica- 
tion, then  we  stole  back  to  our  couches. 

Smyrna  has  been  an  earthquake  center  for  ages,  and 
was  several  times  almost  destroyed.  The  shocks  spoken 
of  above  w'ere  simply  what  were  expected  every  tw^o  or 
three  years ;  not  unusually  severe  but  alarming  because 
of  the  dreadful  uncertainty  that  attends  any  seismic  phe- 
nomena. But  during  the  fifth  year  of  our  residence  in 
that  city  a  protracted  period  of  earth-shaking  occurred 
that  was  most  extraordinary  and  completely  demoralized 
the  nerves  of  the  community.  Habit  made  us  acquainted 
with  the  signs  of  approaching  agitation,  and  we  young 
people  regarded  earthquakes  with  the  awe  that  children 
fear  ghosts.  Slight  shocks  often  quivered  by  in  the  night. 
If  there  was  any  doubt  about  it  it  was  settled  by  the 
simple  seismometer  used  in  Smyrna.  Between  the  Avail 
and  a  ball  suspended  from  a  nail  was  a  piece  of  paper. 
The  least  tremor  caused  the  paper  to  drop.  The  houses 
were  very  solidly  built  of  stone,  no  wind  could  shake  them 


83 


and  earthquakes  were  windless ;  we  proved  that  no  walking 
or  jumping  could  shake  our  house  enough  to  remove  the 
paper ;  and  there  were  no  carriages  or  railway  trains  in 
the  city  or  neighborhood.  It  was  clear  that  only  an  earth- 
quake could  be  the  cause  when  the  paper  was  found  on  the 
floor. 

The  earthquake  season  I  have  alluded  to  was  preceded 
by  an  unusual  phenomena  that  could  hardly  have 
been  a  coincidence,  particulai'ly  as  haziness  in  the  sky 
often  accompanies  earthquakes,  showing  a  certain  rela- 
tion beween  the  two.  It  was  in  the  spring,  the  kite  fly- 
ing season,  and  it  was  while  flying  my  kite  at  midday  that 
I  first  observed  this  phenomena.  The  usual  sea  breeze  was 
blowing  fresh  from  the  west,  but  the  cloudless  sky,  in- 
stead of  being  as  usual  a  clear  blue,  shaded  into  a  copper 
hue  and  a  vast  halo  appeared  arovmd  the  sun  like  the 
ring  around  the  moon  that  precedes  a  heavy  snow  in 
America,  I  spoke  of  this  to  my  father,  who  was  sur- 
prised and  alarmed,  and  thought  it  foreboded  some  great 
atmospheric  disturbance  like  a  hurricane ;  and  so  thought 
the  sailors  and  boatmen,  for  this  coppery  haze  and  ring 
continued  into  the  second  day,  and  aroused  general  super- 
stition and  dismay.  Well,  on  the  second  night  about 
twelve,  the  whole  city  was  brought  to  its  feet  by  a  long, 
violent  shock,  followed  by  another  in  a  very  few  minutes. 
The  walls  of  the  strongest  buildings  were  cracked,  chim- 
neys and  weak  buildings  Avere  demolished,  and  the  dwel- 
lings gave  forth  their  people  as  the  children  went  forth 
after  the  piping  of  the  "pied  piper  of  Hamlin."  IMen, 
women  and  children  crowded  the  streets  by  scores  of  thou- 
sands shouting  in  agony  "Lord  have  mercy !" 


84 


I  remember  my  first  instinct  Avas  to  stand  under 
the  cross-piece  of  my  bedroom  door,  that  being  consid- 
ered safer  than  under  the  ceiling.  After  the  first  shock  I 
saw  my  father  and  mother,  my  brothers  and  sisters,  gath- 
ered in  the  hall  hastily  putting  on  such  clothes  as  they 
had  been  able  to  snatch  on  the  instant.  Doing  the  same 
I  joined  them.  When  we  heard  the  second  shock  coming 
we  rushed  down  stairs  into  the  court ;  of  course  we  were 
not  safe  even  there;  for  we  might  be  crushed  by  falling 
walls  or  the  earth  might  open  under  us,  a  contingency 
not  uncommon  with  Smyrna  earthquakes.  It  happened  at 
several  places  in  the  outskirts  at  that  very  time.  The 
earthquake  continued  trembling  for  two  weeks.  I  do  not 
mean  by  this  that  shocks  were  occurring  at  intervals  dur- 
ing that  period,  but  that  there  was  actually  a  continuous 
vibration  intensified  Avith  shocks  of  more  or  less  violence 
at  frequent  intervals.  For  two  weeks  the  paper  indicator 
of  our  seismometer  could  not  be  kept  in  place !  That  told 
the  story.  One  could  hardly  imagine  to  what  a  degree  of 
demoralization  the  community  arrived.  Business  was 
practically  paralyzed.  Forty  thousand  people  deserted 
to  the  suburbs  and  lived  in  tents  and  booths.  It  was 
scarcely  possible  to  sleep  at  night.  Any  moment  might 
bring  the  final  collapse.  At  length  the  missionaries  Avith 
some  of  the  lay  Protestant  element,  appointed  a  day  of 
fasting  and  prayer.  It  was  a  A'ery  solemn  occasion.  The 
next  day  the  ground  stopped  quaking,  and  not  another 
shock  was  felt  for  a  year,  and  that  quite  harmless.  What 
connection  there  Avas  between  the  fast-day  prayers  and  the 
cessation  of  the  earthquake  visitation  there  seems  to  be 
no  means  of  knoAving.  It  might  have  been  more  than  a 
coincidence.     But  Avho  shall  decide?     Anyway  it  had  a  re- 

85 


assaring  effect  on  those  who  believed  it  a  direct  answer 
to  prayer,  forgetting  what  an  excessively  small  percent- 
age of  prayers  are  directly  or  affirmatively  answered. 

I  took  two  short  sea  trips  when  in  my  fifteenth  year. 
The  first  was  unattended  with  special  danger  or  ad- 
venture. A  missionary  lady  needed  an  escort  to  Constan- 
tinople, the  Station  at  Smyrna  decided  to  send  me.  I 
was  to  have  tMo  weeks  at  Constantinople  for  visiting,  and 
then  return  home  alone.  My  father  gave  me  four  or  five 
dollars  beside  my  ticket,  with  which,  after  delivering  Miss 
Harris  in  safety,  I  did  some  sight-seeing  and  returned 
home  quite  satisfied  to  accept  earthquakes  and  centipedes 
if  I  could  have  Smyrna. 

This  trip  was  the  fourth  time  in  six  years.  I  had 
traversed  the  Hellespont  and  looked  on  the  straits  where 
Leander  swam  to  meet  Hero,  and  on  Mount  Ida,  the  plains 
of  Troy  and  the  tombs  of  Ajax  and  Achilles.  Is  it  any 
wonder,  that  these  scenes  impressed  my  mind,  and  led  me 
to  write  two  books  on  Troy  later  in  life.'' 

The  following  summer,  owing  to  the  activity  of  brigands 
in  the  villages  about  Smyrna  and  my  mother's  ill-health, 
we  were  forced  to  look  elsewhere  for  change  of  air.  We 
decided  on  the  island  of  Scio.  The  Austrian-Loyd  boat 
only  touched  at  midnight,  stopping  out  side  of  the  port, 
(with  no  landing  in  bad  weather)  and  we  considered  our- 
selves in  luck  to  be  able  to  find  passage  on  a  small 
schooner-rigged,  iron-screw  tender  of  the  Turkish  navy, 
bound  to  Scio  direct.  The  deck,  we  found  was  crowded 
with  Turkish  troops  going  to  Scio  and  Samos.  My 
mother  and  two  sisters  were  the  only  females  on  board, 
and  the  first  engineer  the  only  European  besides  our- 
selves. 


86 


All  went  well  until  we  came  to  weather  Cape  Ivaro 
Bournoo  at  the  entrance  of  the  Bay  of  Smyrna.  There 
we  encountered  a  fierce  wind  blowing  from  the  southwest 
in  furious  blasts  with  a  very  wild  cobbling  sea.  The  sky 
was  blackening  rapidly  and  almost  every  one  but  the 
crew  became  deathly  sick.  As  usual,  my  stomach  was 
exempt  from  mal  de  mer.  Sails  were  furled,  topmasts 
and  yards  lowered,  and  altogether  we  were  in  for  a  very 
nasty  afternoon.  The  Turkish  captain,  with  a  courtesy 
we  could  never  forget,  insisted  that  my  father  should  take 
his  family  below  and  occupy  the  captain's  stateroom. 
After  seeing  that  everything  had  been  done  to  make  us 
comfortable,  he  ordered  the  steward  to  bring  us  coffee, 
placing  his  services  at  our  disposal,  and  then  hastened  to 
resume  his  post  on  deck.  It  was  high  time.  The  wind 
was  blowing  great  guns,  the  waves,  the  steep  walls  with 
deep  green  hollows  of  the  ^Mediterranean,  rolled  over  the 
bow  with  thundering  crash,  the  spra}*  flying  in  sheets  to 
the  stern  and  completely  drenching  the  poor  soldiers  to 
the  skin.  It  was  such  a  storm  as  they  have  occasionally 
in  summer  in  the  Aegean,  disturbing  the  regularity  of  the 
elements,  such  a  storm  as  Falcaner  describes  so  graphi- 
cally in  his  "Shipwreck."  It  became  evident  by  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  that  not  only  should  we  fail  to  reach  Scio 
that  day,  but  also  that  we  were  likely  to  go  to  Davy 
Jones'  lockers,  if  we  did  not  succeed  in  making  a  safe  lee 
before  night.  The  propeller  engine  was  practically  a  new 
invention  in  those  days,  and  the  slightest  stoppage  in  the 
machinery  at  this  crisis  would  have  foundered  the  vessel 
or  cast  her  on  a  lee  shore.  In  a  word,  the  condition  of  af- 
fairs was  serious.  So  unexpectedly  do  crises  aiid  perils 
arise  in  life!     When  we  sailed  in  the  earlv  morning  not  a 


87 


soul  dreamed  that  such  a  tempest  was  brewmg,  so  even 
is  the  summer  weather  in  those  waters.  Watching  for  a 
lull,  our  plucky  captain,  a  Turk,  whose  handsome  face,  so 
far  as  I  could  see,  did  not  show  the  quiver  of  a  muscle 
during  the  furious  blasts  of  the  storm,  put  his  ship  be- 
fore the  wind  with  admirable  coolness,  and  headed  for 
Phokis.  It  was  almost  dark  when  we  arrived  off  the  en- 
trance to  that  port;  the  only  member  of  our  family  who 
was  not  seasick,  I  stood  on  deck  holding  fast  to  the  com- 
panion way,  ducking  my  head  as  the  seas  poured  over, 
and  watched  with  keen  fascination  the  delicate  manoeuv- 
ring through  the  unbuoyed  channel.  On  one  side  stood 
an  ancient  Genoese  castle,  our  chief  landmark,  for  there 
was  neither  lighthouse  nor  beacon.  A  tremendous  sea 
was  rolling  on  the  bar,  and  the  flying  spoondrift  made 
the  grey  twilight  thick  and  almost  impenetrable.  Some 
fishermen  dimly  discerned  on  the  point  bearing  close  on 
the  starboard,  waved  directions  for  our  course.  It  was 
touch  and  go,  with  us.  But  wc  made  it,  and  then  it  seemed 
but  a  moment  ere  we  were  out  of  the  storm,  the  lights  of 
the  town  twinkling  in  the  fast  gathering  gloam,  and  our 
cable  rattling  in  a  safe,  snug  haven.  The  violence  of  the 
weather  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  we  found  a 
French  and  an  Austrian  steamer,  each  several  times  larger 
than  our  little  steamer,  lying  at  Phokis,  where  they  also 
had  sought  refuge  from  one  of  the  heaviest  blows  felt  in 
the  Levant  for  years. 

Our  servant  was  sent  on  shore  to  procure  provisions, 
our  slender  supply  being  exhausted.  He  returned  with 
eggs,  a  chicken  just  killed  for  us,  goat's  milk  and  sour 
leavened  bread.  They  were  eaten  with  a  relish.  The  cap- 
tain slept  on  a  settee  under  the  transom  and  turned  over 


the  remainder  of  the  cabin  to  us.  The  following  day,  as  it 
still  blew  hard,  my  father  took  his  family  for  a  stroll 
among  the  narrow  streets  and  antiquities  of  the  little 
town,  which  twenty-five  centuries  ago  was  one  of  the  chief 
ports  of  the  eastern  Aegean.  Her  mariners  founded  jNIar- 
seilles  and  were  the  first  to  pass  the  Strait  of  Gibral- 
tar. 

The  third  morning  broke  serene  and  clear.  I  was 
aroused  by  the  clicking  of  the  pawls  of  the  windlass,  and 
the  shouting  of  the  crew,  "Yah,  Allah !"  as  they  bent  to 
the  handspikes  and  brought  up  the  anchor.  I  sprang  on 
deck  instantly.  Although  a  mere  youth,  my  young  fancy 
was  fairly  entranced  by  the  magical  beauty  and  quietude 
of  the  hour.  The  dawn  was  a  deep  orange  hue  melting 
into  throbbing  purple  where  gleamed  the  pure  splendor  of 
the  morning  star,  whose  rays  quiAered  on  the  smooth  water 
like  a  silver  falchion.  Far  and  near  rang  the  shrill  crow 
of  chanticleer.  As  the  sun  neared  the  hilltops  the  solemn, 
melodious  chant  of  the  viuezzin  floated  from  the  white 
minaret  in  cadences  long  drawn  out  and  slowly  dying 
away  like  a  mystical  voice  from  past  ages,  out  of  the 
fantastical  vagueness  of  the  realm  of  dreams.  The  sol- 
diers, who  had  already  carefully  performed  their  ablu- 
tions, knelt  in  silent  rows  on  deck,  and  with  devout  aspira- 
tion offered  their  orisons  to  the  Author  and  Ruler  of  the 
universe. 

We  reached  Port  Kastro,  chief  port  of  Scio,  at  three 
p.  m.  Tlie  mole,  and  the  old  fort  opposite,  with  its 
masonry  of  variegated  tints,  its  pepper-box  turrets,  fosse 
and  drawbridge,  were  ver}^  interesting,  surmounted  by 
the  scarlet  banner  of  Turkey,  all  faithfully  reflecterl 
in    the    lapis    laznli    surface    of    the    sea.      The    market 

89 


booths  on  the  quay  in  front  of  the  town  presented  a  pic- 
turesque animation  in  contrast  with  the  long  row  of  wind- 
mills crowning  the  hill  on  the  left,  and  whirling  their  w^hite 
canvas  sails  with  a  drowsy  regularity  that  was  as  delight- 
ful, as  applying  poppy  seeds  to  the  eyes. 

The  captain  of  the  steamer  politely  but  firmly  declined 
the  slightest  compensation  for  giving  up  his  cabin  to  us, 
for  tliroc  days.  Not  to  be  outdone  in  courtesy,  my  father 
on  landing,  hastened  to  purchase  a  quantity  of  the  famous 
conserves  of  Scio,  mastic,  rose,  cherry,  and  quince,  and 
sent  them  aboard  the  steamer  with  his  compliments  to  this 
noble  mariner  and  "unspeakable  Turk." 

A  house  had  been  already  engaged  for  us  in  the  Campo, 
a  rich,  sloping  plain  between  the  mountains  and  the  sea. 
The  magnates  of  the  island,  the  chief  landed  proprietors, 
had  their  estates  in  the  Campo.  Mr.  Petrokokino,  a  Greek 
who  had  been  rescued  from  the  Sciote  massacre  of  the 
Revolution  and  educated  in  the  United  States,  but  who 
subsequently  settled  again  on  his  paternal  estate  in  the 
Campo,  met  us  at  the  pier,  escorted  us  to  his  town  house 
where  we  were  treated  to  refreshments  by  the  ladies  and 
then  conducted  to  the  modest  dwelling  he  had  rented 
for  us  five  miles  from  the  city.  Although  it  was  modest 
compared  with  some  of  the  stately  mansions  of  Scio,  yet 
our  quarters  were  comfortable,  and  commodious,  and 
commanded  a  fine  prospect.  We  had  entirely  to  our- 
selves the  whole  of  the  second  floor,  the  porter's  lodge 
and  terrace  and  the  run  of  the  grounds.  For  this  we 
paid  tlie  munificent  equivalent  of  four  dollars  a  month ! 
But  they  calculate  in  Turkey  by  the  piastre,  and  prices 
and   expenditures   are   generally   based   on    the   monetary 


90 


unit.  In  France  a  franc  goes  nearly  as  far  among  French- 
men, as  a  dollar  does  among  Americans. 

Our  pyrgo,  although  less  ornate  than  many  Sciote 
pyrgoes,  (especially  as  to  the  colored  stones  and  grand 
stairways),  was  typical  in  general  style  and  arrangement. 
It  had  two  floors  with  flat  roof  parapeted,  the  second 
story  reached  by  a  grand  stairway  terminating  in  a 
spacious  open  portico,  the  windows  and  doors  strong 
enough  for  a  castle,  the  second  floor  paved  with  figured 
marble  and  sandstone,  the  ceilings  arched,  and  everything 
built  to  last  for  ages.  The  natives  slept  for  the  most 
part  on  matresses  laid  on  the  floor  and  rolled  up  by  day; 
but  we  used  light  cots.  A  graceful  open  gallery  led  to  the 
porter's  lodge  over  the  great  entrance  gate,  used  also  as 
a  reception  room.  There  was  a  trellis  supported  on  mas- 
sive pillars  covered  with  a  dense  grape-vine  fairly  purple 
with  clusters  of  grapes,  and  under  its  shade,  was  a  deep 
well  whose  water  was  drawn  by  a  huge  creaking  wheel 
with  buckets  turned  by  a  nude.  The  water  was  used  for 
irrigating  the  garden  and  orchard.  Around  all,  after  the 
oriental  fashion,  ran  a  lofty  stone  wall.  From  our  porch 
and  roof  we  looked  over  one  of  the  world's  loveliest  land- 
scapes. A  mile  from  us  spread  the  blue  Aegean  skirted 
with  historic  isles,  and  beyond,  the  Teian  shore  where 
Anacreon  sung,  and  where  Diana's  famous  temple  stood. 
Nearer  on  the  left  were  the  mountains  where  nestled  the 
old,  old  village  of  Valisso,  which  existed  away  back  in 
that  misty  age,  and  where  Homer  is  said  to  have  lived  and 
sung. 

The  life  Me  led  there  was  even  and  uneventful.  It  was 
a  subjective  existence,  if  one  may  use  the  term,  when  im- 
pressions are  made  that  are  scarcely  noticed  at  the  time 

91 


but  which  incorporate  themselves  with  our  being  and  un- 
consciously shape  the  character  and  hence  perhaps  one's 
future.  We  read,  we  talked,  we  strolled  on  foot  or  on 
mules,  and  we  dreamed.  We  were  imbibing  health  for 
body  and  mind  as  the  plant  draws  sustenance  from  the 
sun.  What  I  remember  especially  about  those  Scian  days 
was  enjoying  so  much  of  the  society  of  my  mother.  She 
was  entirely  with  her  children  during  that  summer.  She 
interested  herself  deeply  in  their  amusements,  read  or 
sang  to  them,  and  repeated  the  legends  and  story  of  the 
island.  She  could  be  decided  when  necessary,  but  she 
ruled  chiefly  by  sweetness  and  affection.  I  was  old 
enough  then  to  begin  to  appreciate  the  resources  of  her 
mind,  as  could  not  have  been  the  case,  if  I  had  been 
younger  or  had  companions  of  my  own  age.  As  I  look 
back  to  my  mother  and  venture  reverentially  to  analyze 
her  character,  I  can  see  that  one  of  her  qualities  was  a 
thoroughly  sane  and  well-balanced  nature,  swayed  equally 
by  practical  common  sense  and  by  warm  and  demon- 
strative affections,  and  withal  thoroughly  feminine.  I 
cannot  imagine  her  endeavoring  to  Avin  influence,  power 
or  fame  by  invading  the  domain  of  masculine  faculties  or 
disdaining  the  sphere  in  which  destiny  had  placed  her. 
She  Avas  proud  to  be  a  woman,  and  to  exert  her  talents 
and  opportunities  as  such  first  in  the  domestic  and  second 
in  the  social  or  public  line  of  duties. 

One  of  my  recreations  in  Scio  was  to  accompany  our 
Armenian  servant  Takvore  on  his  foraging  expeditions 
among  the  plantations  or  to  the  market  at  Port  Kastro. 
We  rode  on  sleek  and  well-trained  mules.  The  saddles 
were  flat  and  broad,  intended  both  for  loads  and  for  rid- 
ing, and  Ave  generally  rode  sidewise  like  the  natives.     In 

92 


this  Avay  I  saw  much  of  the  people,  and  picked  up  their 
patois,  a  branch  of  the  Doric.  As  we  ambled  along  the 
country  roads,  by  leafy  lanes  up  the  mountain  side  or  by 
the  sea,  the  various  rural  sounds  blending  pleasantly  in 
the  drowsy  air,  Takvore  manifested  a  vein  of  sentimental- 
it}^  thoroughly  oriental.  Allowing  the  mule  to  choose  its 
own  pace,  he  beat  his  heels  lazily  against  the  sides  of  the 
beast,  and  launched  out  into  erotic  ditties,  rendered  with 
quick  rising  inflection,  then  passed  into  a  long  drawn-out 
monotone,  tapering  away  to  silence.  Those  eastern  songs 
cannot  be  said  to  be  musical  in  the  western  sense,  but 
they  certainly  excel  in  the  power  of  expressing  passion 
and  firing  the  blood.  Takvore  was  a  character.  Faith- 
ful in  his  duties,  trusty  to  his  master,  and  yet  with  a 
certain  galliard  deviltry  about  him  that  was  highly  amus- 
ing. He  was  versatile  and  clever,  lazy  or  industrious,  at 
will,  and  I  fear  a  sad  fellow  with  the  girls,  in  a  word,  an 
oriental  Sam  Weller,  or  Gil  Bias.  He  followed  our  for- 
tunes for  several  years  until  we  returned  to  America. 
After  that  he  went  to  London,  changed  his  name  into 
its  English  equivalent  and  became  ]Mr.  King;  he  also 
adopted  the  European  dress,  opened  a  pastr}^  and  con- 
fectionery shop  in  that  city,  and  prospered. 

One  of  our  entertainments  at  eventide  was  listening  to 
the  tap  of  the  seinandvoes  or  sounding  boards  used  to  sum- 
mon the  people  to  vespers.  The  subject  Christians  in 
Turkey,  although  allowed  many  privileges,  were  not  at 
that  time  permitted  to  use  church  bells  out  of  Constanti- 
nople and  Smyrna.  Accordingly  they  substituted  the 
semandro.  There  were  many  chapels  in  the  island,  and  it 
was  curious  to  hear  the  quick  tatao  beaten  on  the  boards 
far  and  near,  b}'^  the  seashore,  in  the  valleys,  on  the  moun- 

93 


tains.  Then  night  came  on  and  we  securely  closed  the 
doors  and  shutters  with  massive  bars,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  land.  There  was  no  police,  the  dwellings 
stood  far  apart  generally,  and  I  have  often  thought  my 
mother  very  courageous  to  live  there  alone  for  months. 
Once,  indeed,  she  had  a  very  serious  and  mysterious 
alarm,  and  perhaps  it  was  owing  to  this  that  my  father 
took  us  home  early  in  August,  instead  of  leaving  us  there 
until  the  heat  of  September  was  past. 

The  exploits  in  the  environs  of  Smyrna  of  the  banditti 
to  whom  I  have  alluded,  together  with  their  confederates  in 
and  out  of  the  city,  and  the  desperate  character  of  some  of 
the  Frank  residents  at  that  time,  naturally  added  greatly 
to  the  events  which  most  interested  me  during  the  clos- 
ing years  of  my  life  at  Smyrna.  But  as  the  story  is  a 
long  one,  and  I  have  already  related  part  of  it  in  another 
work,  I  can  only  allude  to  these  facts  in  this  work.  These 
fellows,  about  whose  characters  there  was  littlo  of  the 
romance  which  some  writers  have  associated  with  the  pro- 
fession of  brigandage,  were  Christians,  drawn  from  the 
horde  of  desperadoes  who  had  flocked  hither  from 
every  thieves'  rookery  in  the  Mediterranean,  chiefly,  how- 
ever, from  Italy,  Malta,  and  Greece,  fugitives  from  jus- 
tice or  adventurers  ill-satisfied  Avith  their  luck,  but  in- 
variably "good  Christians"  who  would  sooner  cut  a  throat 
than  eat  meat  on  Fridays.  Turks  were  not  permitted  to 
join  their  fraternity,  nor  did  they  yearn  to  do  so,  firstly 
because  they  scorned  the  Christians,  and  secondly  because 
the  Turks,  whatever  their  other  faults,  have  rarely  in- 
cluded brigandage  with  their  national  pursuits.  These 
Christian  ruffians  actually  forced  one  of  their  number  to 
hurl  from  a  cliff*  a  Turkish  woman  and  her  daughter  whom 

94 


he  had  taken  to  the  rendezvous  (after  murdering  their 
husband  and  father)  before  they  would  admit  him  to  mem- 
bership in  their  band.  The  splendid  nerve  this  worthy  ex- 
hibited on  that  occasion  eventually  raised  him  to  a 
pinnacle  of  fame  and  power  in  the  Clan  that  won  for  him 
the  doom  of  a  brigand  chief. 

The  consternation  created  throughout  the  city  by  such 
events  as  the  successive  capture  of  the  vice  consul  of  Hol- 
land, of  an  English  physician,  and  other  prominent  in- 
dividuals, the  barely  frustrated  attempt  to  steal  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  British  chaplain,  and  the  like,  can  hardly 
be  described  here.  No  one  knew  when  he  was  safe.  No 
one  dared  to  ride  in  the  suburbs  nor  felt  safe  even  in  the 
heart  of  the  city.  Tlie  Turkish  government,  however,  was 
forced  to  bestir  itself,  although  the  ^Moslems  doubtless 
enjoyed  seeing  the  Christians  thus  harrying  each  other. 
But  the  business  prosperity  of  Smyrna  and  the  remon- 
strances of  the  foreign  envoys  made  it  necessary  to  crush 
these  disturbances  ;  and  soon,  the  results  of  Turkish  mili- 
tary courage  and  enterprise  began  to  be  evident.  The 
brigands  were  forced  successively  out  of  their  dens,  and 
driven  to  smuggle  themselves  out  of  the  country  in  coast- 
ers ;  some  were  shot,  some  captured  and  executed,  some- 
times by  summary  hanging  in  public  places,  sometimes  by 
methods  which  they  doubtless  deserved  but  which  modern 
civilization  condemns.  One  day  I  was  thrilled  by  hearing 
a  friend  of  ours  describing  to  my  father  a  most  interest- 
ing interview  with  a  noted  captain  of  brigands  in  his 
dungeon  the  day  before  he  was  to  suffer  a  lingering  death. 
On  another  day,  as  I  was  thoughtlessly  strolling  near  the 
bazaars,  I  was  stupefied  by  seeing  a  robber  hanging  by 
the  neck  from  the  eaves  of  a  house.      In  the  East,  they  do 


95 


not  perhaps  stab  a  man's  reputation  and  success,  by  means 
of  the  newspaper  press  as  we  do,  but  when  they  strike  at 
his  life,  they  strike  to  kilL  They  follow  all  the  forms  of 
law,  but  the  law  does  not  sleep  nor  dawdle  over  a  case. 
Whether  administered  justly  or  otherwise,  it  acts  with 
directness  and  speed.  That  the  Turkish  authorities 
stamped  brigandage  so  thoroughly  out  of  the  region  about 
Smyrna  speaks  well  for  them,  when  one  considers  how  It 
lingers  still,  a  perpetual  festering  social  sore  In  Italy  and 
Greece,  and  especially  as  the  efforts  of  those  gentry  were 
directed  against  Christians,  and  not  Turks. 

The  condition  of  things  within  the  city  corresponding 
with  the  bold  outrages  in  the  suburbs,  was  Indicated  In 
no  uncertain  way  by  various  serious  incidents,  of  which 
I  can  mention  here  only  a  single  typical  example.  We  oc- 
cupied for  a  year,  a  house  on  one  of  the  Khans  or  courts 
which  I  have  previously  described.  This  happened  to  be 
one  of  the  darkest  and  most  narrow  courts  in  the  city,  and 
the  dwelling  we  occupied  was  an  uncanny  sort  of  a  place, 
which  had  lain  empty  for  years,  because  It  was  reputed  to 
be  haunted,  and  it  was  so  shut  in,  that  If  there  had  been 
ghosts  among  its  dreary  corridors  we  should  have  es- 
caped from  them  with  difficulty.  It  was  said  that  a  gang 
of  counterfeiters  were  the  real  ghosts.  They  had  worked 
at  their  trade  In  the  dark  magazines  under  the  house,  and 
In  order  to  be  able  to  carry  on  their  schemes  safely  had 
derived  means  to  frighten  away  the  occupants.  This  may 
have  been  an  explanation  contrived  to  reassure  tenants, 
and  there  may  have  been  ghosts  there.  In  very  sooth.  We 
saw  none,  but  that  proves  nothing,  for  we  might  not  have 
had  the  "seeing"  eye;  but  we  saw  and  heard  abundant  rats, 
and   felt  earthquakes   and   heard   and   saw   other   matters 

96 


enough  to  make  our  life  there  memorable  to  us.  The 
entrance  of  the  court  was  guarded  by  two  magnificent 
Turks  with  green  turbans.  But  we  were  one  hundred 
yards  away  from  them  at  the  other  end.  Over  dark  dun- 
geon-like magazines,  we  came  to  an  entresol,  off  the  stair- 
landing,  and  then  passed  to  a  hall,  one  hundred  and  forty- 
four  feet  long  and  eighteen  feet  high ;  at  one  end,  was  the 
parlor,  at  the  other  the  dining-room.  The  former  over- 
looked the  Marino,  and  the  latter  a  winding  passage  that 
led  to  the  kitchen.  The  bedrooms  were  ranged  in  a  row 
on  one  side  of  the  hall,  not  communicating,  and  a  line  of 
small  square  windows  near  the  ceiling,  pierced  the  opposite 
side  of  the  hall.  This  corridor  was  reached  from  the  court 
by  a  broad  stairway.  When  anyone  desired  admittance 
he  banged  a  huge  knocker  that  could  be  heard  half  a  mile ; 
before  opening  the  door  we  invariably  looked  out  of  the 
window  to  see  who  was  there,  and  then  raised  the  latch  b}^ 
pulling  a  rope.  You  can  imagine  what  an  awesome  kind  of 
a  dwelling  this  must  have  been.  I  well  remember  how 
lonely  and  solemn  it  seemed  one  gloomy  day,  when  an 
eartliquake  shook  the  city,  and  made  all  our  bells  ring. 
And  that  reminds  me  that  this  was  one  of  the  few  resi- 
dences in  Symrna  supplied  with  bells,  placed  there  prob- 
ably, by  its  former  tenants,  the  counterfeiters,  to  add  to 
its  other  mysteries.  It  was  while  we  were  occupying  this 
house — that  one  night,  every  soul  in  that  part  of  the  city 
was  awakened  by  appalling  shrieks,  and  the  rapid  crash 
of  pistol  shots,  which  in  those  days  of  huge  flintlock 
horse-pistols,  were  much  louder  than  the  feeble  crack  of  a 
modern  revolver. 

When    morning   came — and    it   was    as    fair   a    Sunday 
morning,  as  ever  dawned — we  heard  all  about  the  dread- 


97 


ful  tragedy  that  had  occurred  but  a  few  doors  from  our 
house.  I  relate  it  here,  because  it  illustrates  the  charac- 
ter of  some  of  the  European  colony  at  Smyrna.  There 
dwelt  in  that  city  a  well-known  Italian  of  wealth.  He 
was  an  importer  of  maccaroni  and  other  Italian  edibles — 
and  so  far  as  the  public  was  aware,  he  enjoyed  a  good  re- 
pute. On  the  Saturday  evening  when  this  event  took 
place  he  gave  a  handsome  entertainment  to  some  of  his 
friends.  While  the  banquet  was  at  its  height,  and  the 
wine  was  flowing  freely,  and  the  merry  guests  were  toast- 
ing the  bejeweled  charms  of  the  fair  hostess,  his  wife, 
word  was  whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  host  that  someone 
desired  to  speak  with  him  a  moment.  He  stepped  into  the 
ante-room,  and  instantly  returned  to  request  the  com- 
pany to  excuse  him  for  half  an  hour,  as  he  was  unex- 
pectedly summoned  to  attend  to  an  item  of  business,  a 
mere  trifle  that  would  detain  him  a  brief  half  hour.  Turn- 
ing to  Madame,  he  added  that  he  was  sure  that  la  signora 
would  do  her  best  to  entertain  their  guests  during  his  ab- 
sence. 

Passing  to  his  own  room,  the  merchant  donned  a  busi- 
ness suit,  armed  himself,  threw  a  Spanish  cloak  over  his 
shoulders,  and  hastened  to  the  Marino  gate  of  the  court 
or  Khan  which  enclosed  the  office  and  magazine  of  the 
Austrian  consulate.  Tapping  lightly  he  was  softly  ad- 
mitted into  the  court  where  five  confederates  were  waiting 
for  him.  Evidently  there  was  a  seventh  who  was  missing. 
They  were  all  armed.  Without  waiting  for  the  seventh, 
although  disturbed  by  his  absence,  they  proceeded,  under 
cover  of  the  dense  shadow  of  the  court,  to  the  office  of 
the  consulate,  unlocked  the  iron  door  with  a  false  key, 
and  immediately  laid  hold  of  a  massive  chest  containing 

98 


many  thousands  in  gold  that  was  to  be  shipped  Monda}' 
on  the  steamer.  The  chest  was  heavy,  but  the  confeder- 
ates managed  to  lift  it  into  the  court  without  perceptible 
sound,  and  carry  it  almost  to  the  gate  whence  they  pro- 
posed to  put  it  on  board  a  stout  boat  waiting  in  the 
shadow  of  the  pier  close  at  hand.  At  that  moment  a  troop 
of  Zaptichs  or  police  officers  armed  to  the  teeth,  to- 
gether with  the  porters  of  the  court,  sprang  on  them  as  it 
were  out  of  the  ground.  These  guards  had  been  waiting 
there  since  early  in  the  evening.  A  horrible  battle  en- 
sued. But  the  robbers  were  taken  by  surprise,  and  al- 
though fighting  desperately  were  overpowered  by  num- 
bers, and  in  a  short  time  were  massacred  to  the  last  man. 

All  of  the  following  day,  the  six  corpses,  hacked  and 
mangled  almost  out  of  shape  and  recognition,  lay  stark 
naked  in  a  row,  on  the  pavement  of  Frank  street,  a 
ghastly  exhibition  for  the  gaping  crowds. 

This  was  not  the  only  instance  of  men  of  means  and 
apparent  respectability,  who  at  that  time  were  in 
league  with  bands  of  miscreants  in  Smyrna.  Brigandage 
broke  out  in  the  neighborhood  of  that  city  soon  after  the 
incident  just  narrated,  and  extended  its  operations  by 
means  of  confederates  into  the  very  heart  of  Smyrna. 
Wealth}^  residents  received  anonymous  letters,  which  it 
was  useless  to  disregard,  demanding  sums  of  money  to 
be  left  at  a  specified  place,  at  a  certain  hour.  To  attempt 
to  have  officers  on  hand  to  watch  or  seize  the  scoundrels 
was  also  worse  than  useless  as  it  would  simply  lead  to  the 
assassination  of  anyone  who  resisted  the  demand  in  such 
manner.  The  regular  brigands  were,  of  course,  all  Chris- 
tians, raked  together,  from  the  scum  of  the  Levant,  in- 
cluding   some    mountaineers,    several    of    them    had    some 

99 


education,  but  all  were  drawn  together  by  desperate  for- 
tunes. 

One  day  Mr.  Richard  Van  Lennep,  the  Dutch  vice  con- 
sul general,  was  seized  at  the  very  gate  of  his  grounds 
and  whisked  off  to  the  mountains  where  he  was  held  until 
the  ransom  of  65,000  piastres  was  paid.  This  capture 
created  an  uproar  from  all  Smyrna,  and  his  thrilling  ac- 
count on  his  return  home  of  his  sojourn  in  the  brigand's 
stronghold,  produced  a  prodigious  impression  on  my 
youthful  fancy.  The  Turkish  government  refunded  the 
ransom,  I  believe,  and  the  Sultan  sent  Mr.  Van  Lennep  a 
superb  gold  snuff-box,  set  with  diamonds,  as  a  salvo  to 
his  feelings. 

From  motives  of  self-interest  the  Smyrna  brigands  al- 
lowed no  deviation  from  their  code  of  blood  and  iron.  As 
Christians  they  would  admit  no  Mussulmans  into  their 
fraternity,  and  therefore  when  Yami  Katchiky  joined  them 
with  a  young  Turkish  girl  and  her  mother,  who  had 
robbed  and  murdered  their  husband  and  father,  they 
forced  him  to  slaughter  the  women  before  they  would  ad- 
mit him  to  fellowship.  Nerved  by  such  an  imitation 
Yami,  eventually  worked  his  way  to  the  chieftainship. 
In  the  same  way  every  agreement  or  threat  made  to  a  pris- 
oner was  carried  out  to  the  letter.  If  the  ransom  money 
arrived  at  the  appointed  time  he  was  instantly  released. 
If  there  was  delay,  one  ear  was  sent  to  the  family,  with 
the  limit  of  time  stated  before  the  other  ear  or  the  head 
followed.  If  the  brigands  were  captured  they  were 
executed,  generally  by  hanging  from  the  eaves  of  a  house 
in  some  prominent  place.  I  remember  how  startled  I 
was  one  day  to  see  the  body  of  one  of  them  suspended  in 


100 


that  wa}^,  near  the  gate  leading  from  the  Yaliathika  into 
the  bazaars. 

My  seven  years  of  Hfe  in  Smyrna  were  full  of  interest. 
Aside  from  the  earthquakes,  the  insubordinate  character 
of  the  various  peoples,  the  great  variety  of  the  Levantine 
colonists,  the  numerous  sailing  craft  that  swarmed  in  the 
port,  the  picturesque  brigands  who  imperiled  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  especially  the  rare  loveliness  of  the  scenery, 
all  gave  infinite  attraction  to  my  days  in  Eastern  Asia 
Minor.  Chief  perhaps,  among  these,  I  recall  my  two 
months  in  the  superb  Island  of  Scio  and  the  vivacity  of 
the  little  newspaper  called  The  Smyrna  Star.  These  de- 
tails, however,  would  be  unattractive  probably  to  most  of 
my  readers — hence  I  turn  my  face  to  Constantinople, 
whither  my  parents  were  now  directed  to  move,  by  the 
American  Board. 


101 


CHAPTER   IV. 


CONSTANTINOPLE . 

Ix  1853  my  father  and  his  family  were  transferred 
from  Smyrna  to  Constantinople,  an  event  of  decided  im- 
portance to  me.  A  considerable  colony  of  missionaries 
lived  there,  including  of  course,  numerous  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, all  of  which  proved  of  great  interest,  although  less 
to  me  than  it  would  have  been  to  some  missionaries'  sons ; 
for  I  was  less  in  sympathy  with  the  missionary  Avork  than 
my  companions.  Why  this  was  so,  I  cannot  tell,  unless 
it  be  because  of  a  decided  difference  of  temperament.  But 
on  the  other  hand,  I  was  very  soon  almost  intoxicated  by 
the  inexhaustible  and  bewildering  beauty  of  the  Bos- 
phorus  and  the  Golden  Horn.  How  can  I  ever  forget 
the  effect  of  those  scenes  on  my  young  imagination, 
just  beginning  to  expand  and  to  respond  with  fervor  to 
whatever  appealed  to  the  eye  and  the  senses.  How  shall  I 
ever  forget  the  impression  then  made  of  the  picturesque- 
ness  of  the  groups  thronging  the  streets,  the  floating 
bridges  and  the  wharves ;  the  curious  rigs  of  the  swarm- 
ing coasters ;  the  artistic  bits  that  met  the  eye  at  every 
turn ;  the  legend-haunted  towers  and  battlements  and  the 
forest  of  gilded,  tapering  minarets ;  the  carved  caiques 
skimming  like  swallows  over  the  turquoise  colored  waters 

102 


of  the  port,  the  superb  coloring  of  sky  and  sea  and  toAvn: 
the  barbaric  splendor  of  the  court-pageants ;  the  en- 
trancing and  voluptuous  charms  of  the  Circassian  women 
thinly  veiled  by  gauzy  yashmaks,  the  piquant  beauty  of 
the  Periote  girls  combining  the  traits  of  Hellenic  and 
Latin  races,  and  the  wealth  of  historic  associations  that 
pervaded  every  nook  and  corner,  like  the  subtle  perfumes 
lingering  about  a  lady's  boudoir  after  she  has  left 
for  tlie  ball;  it  hovered  over  the  domes  of  the  imperial 
city  like  the  lavish  glory  of  the  setting  sun  fading  into 
night.  Such  were  the  objects,  the  scenes,  that  fired  my 
young  enthusiasm  and  captured  my  heart  forever. 

It  was  at  that  critical  juncture  of  my  life  that  another 
of  those  decisive  incidents  occurred,  which  have  a  distinct 
influence  in  shaping  one's  course  in  later  years.  I  had 
begun  sketching  with  pencil  and  chalk  up  to  the  time  of 
leaving  Smyrna.  But  I  had  reached  a  point  where  a  thor- 
ough discipline  in  the  rudiments  of  art  practice  had  be- 
come indispensable,  otherwise,  probably,  I  should  have 
become  irretrievably  mannered,  have  lost  interest,  and 
entirel}'  abandoned  the  pencil.  One  of  the  first  things  I 
asked  of  my  father,  therefore,  on  reaching  Constantinople, 
was  to  find  me  a  good  drawing  master,  if  such  there  was 
in  the  place.  As  it  happened  there  were  several  good  ar- 
tists then  in  that  city,  who  executed  excellent  sketches  of 
local  scenery  and  genre  which  they  often  lithographed. 
Prominent  among  them  were  Schranz  and  Presiozzi.  But 
by  far  the  best  artist  for  my  purpose  at  Constantinople 
was  a  young  Italian  belonging  to  the  Frank  colony  of  the 
European  c^uarter,  called  Pera  (or  the  Beyond,)  by  the 
old  time  Byzantines  and  still  known  as  such.  His  name 
was  Carlo  Brindesi.     He  was  a  master  in  perspecjtive,  pen- 

103 


cil  drawing,  fresco  and  aquarelle.  For  appreciating  the 
essence  of  the  picturesque,  and  suggesting  it  with  a  few 
telling  strokes  of  the  pencil  or  brush,  whether  an  old 
building  or  a  figure  I  have  never  seen  his  superior.  If  he 
had  settled  in  Paris  instead  of  in  his  native  city  I  am  sure 
that  Brindesi  could  have  achieved  a  fame  approaching 
that  of  Fortuny  whose  style  he  suggested.  As  it  was,  he 
preferred  to  remain  at  Constantinople,  and  accumulate  a 
fortune  by  dashing  off  telling  bits  of  genre  in  water  color 
which  he  sold  to  tourists  for  good  prices.  His  power  of 
production  was  great,  and  while  he  had  all  the  avidity  of 
a  Levantine,  he  also  took  enthusiastic  pleasure  in  his  work, 
like  the  true  artist  that  he  was.  No  one  could  be  more 
faithful  and  thorough  as  a  teacher  than  Brindesi.  He 
often  made  me  copy  a  drawing  several  times,  and  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  slash  and  criticise;  but  he  also  gave  judi- 
cious praise  when  deserved.  This  is  an  excellent  quality 
not  only  when  imparting  instruction,  but  in  every  depart- 
ment of  effort.  Appreciation  or  praise  judiciously  but 
heartily  bestowed  usually  does  more  good  than  harsh  or  in- 
discriminate ^ensure  or  cold,  sullen  assent.  This  fact  is 
often  forgotten  even  by  well  meaning  people  who  by  with- 
holding a  kind,  encouraging  word  at  the  right  time  do 
more  harm  than  good.  Several  of  Brindesi's  methods  were 
unusually  valuable,  and  I  often  thought  they  might  be  fol- 
lowed profitably  in  some  of  our  schools.  He  insisted,  for 
example,  on  my  using  only  one  pencil,  and  that  a  soft  No. 
1  of  prime  quality,  both  for  drawing  outline  and  for  every 
variation  of  finish  and  shading.  The  degrees  of  accentua- 
tion were  to  be  expressed  by  graduating  the  pressure  and 
often  sharpening  the  pencil.  He  insisted  that  only  in  this 
way  could  one  represent  an  even  tone  and  gain  full  ffexi- 

104 


bility  of  the  fingers  and  wrist,  and  hence  complete  sup- 
port between  hand  and  brain ;  that  the  fewer  mediums 
one  uses  the  larger  his  reserve  force.  He  was  entirely 
right.  I  have  proved  it  by  considerable  experience  both 
with  pencil  and  brush.  I  followed  this  principle  when  I 
took  up  oil  painting  at  a  later  period,  and  have  always 
set  my  palette  with  fewer  colors  than  most  artists,  and  have 
confined  myself  to  fewer  brushes.  This  method  has  been 
advantageous  at  least  to  me.  I  do  not  speak  for  other 
artists;  each,  if  true  to  himself,  must  practice  his  own 
method  and  style.  Another  of  Brindesi's  methods,  which 
is  only  possible  when  the  master  has  but  two  or  three 
pupils  in  the  class  to  copy  the  same  drawings,  was  to  draw 
the  model  picture  in  the  pupil's  presence.  Having  seen 
how  the  drawing  was  executed,  the  pupil  was  then  to  copy 
the  style  as  well  as  the  subject.  This  required  devotion 
and  patience  on  the  part  of  the  master,  while  for  an  ad- 
vanced student  it  would  be  undesirable,  as  tending  to 
check  the  initiative,  the  originality  of  expression,  of  the 
would-be  professional  artist.  But  up  to  a  certain  point, 
nothing  could  give  the  .pupil  a  clearer  perception  of  art 
methods  than  such  a  plan.  Few  teachers  of  art,  however, 
have  the  facility  or  inclination  to  follow  this  practice. 
Whether  Brindcsi  employed  it  with  other  pupils  I  am  not 
aware.  But  I  do  know  that  he  liked  my  severe  applica- 
tion and  enthusiasm,  and  foretold  my  success,  if  I  should 
devote  myself  to  art  as  a  profession.  He  advised  me  to 
go  to  Rome  or  preferably  to  Paris,  which  I  ought  to  have 
done.  Sometimes  Brindesi  showed  his  friendly  interest 
in  me  by  inviting  me  to  a  stroll  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
pointing  out  the  picturesque  effects  and  suggesting  how  I 
should  draw  them.      Full  of  the  galliard   spirit  of  early 

105 


manhood  and  conceited  like  a  true  Levantine,  he  yet  never 
lost  sight  of  his  art,  which  he  loved  with  all  his  heart.  He 
was  an  ideal  instructor  to  whom  I  owe  a  lasting  debt  of 
gratitude,  as  to  one  whose  influence  in  shaping  my  intel- 
lectual tendencies  was  among  the  very  first.  I  studied 
with  him  over  two  years  steadily,  and  when  I  left  him  had 
become  well  grounded  in  pencil  drawing,  with  a  fair  knowl- 
edge of  linear  perspective,  I  had  considerable  notion  of 
the  principles  of  light  and  shade,  and  had  made  a  fair  be- 
ginning in  aquarelle. 

Water  colors  have  never  altogether  satisfied  me.  If 
one  intends  to  paint  only  sketchy  effects  of  color  or 
rapid  studies,  of  course  nothing  can  be  more  brilliant  or 
telling  than  a  pure  wash.  But  if  one  desires  to  represent 
power,  depth,  and  subtlety,  sucli  as  the  movement  of  great 
billows  in  a  sea  storm,  then  oil  colors  are  the  medium  that 
most  appeals  to  me.  Impressed  instinctively  by  this  feel- 
ing, during  my  last  year  at  Constantinople  I  found  my 
way  to  the  studio  of  a  French  painter  in  oils,  Favier 
by  name.  He  was  a  short,  elderly  man,  with  ruddy  com- 
plexion, blue  eyes,  whose  fire  kindled  when  he  spoke  of 
his  art,  and  iron  grey  hair,  mustache  and  imperial,  hav- 
ing a  somewhat  military  aspect.  He  received  me,  although 
a  mere  youth  and  a  total  stranger,  with  urbanity^  was  in- 
terested to  learn  of  my  artistic  aspirations,  and  seemed 
to  take  it  as  a  compliment  that  I  should  visit  his  studio. 
He  talked  freely  to  me  of  the  art  of  painting  in  oil,  showed 
me  the  canvases  attached  against  the  wall,  and  spoke  of 
them  with  mingled  pride  and  pathos  as  children  of  his 
heart  which  a  busy,  capricious  public  has  not  yet  learned 
to  appreciate.  "Mais  que  voulez  vous.  Monsieur;  c'est 
le  bun  Dieu  qui  arrange  le  sort  de  chacun,"  he  said,  with 

106 


u  shrug  of  the  shoulder.  He  invited  me  to  call  again, 
which  I  did  repeatedly,  finding  great  fascination  in  that 
dingy,  cob-webbed  studio  on  the  hill  of  Pera,  near  the 
Russian  legation,  and  overlooking  the  entrance  to  the 
Bosphorus,  I  have  often  harked  back  to  that  little  known 
artist,  who  represented  a  character  that  Hawthorne  would 
have  lovingly  portrayed  with  his  quaint  and  inimitable 
pen,  one  of  the  multitude  of  artists  and  writers  whose 
taste  and  ambition  have  exceeded  their  talents  or  their  luck, 
but  who  have  still  plodded  on  until  old  age,  loving  their 
pursuits,  and  nourishing  in  their  bosoms  a  tiny  spark  of 
hope. 

I  contrived  out  of  my  little  savings  to  buy  from  this 
artist  a  canvas,  a  palette,  and  some  oil  colors  and  brushes. 
An  easel  I  made  in  secret,  and  in  secret  began  to  paint  a 
composition  representing  the  ill-fated  steamer  San  Fran- 
cisco fighting  her  last  battle  with  the  storms,  a  subject 
about  which  I  also  wrote  a  poem  at  the  same  time.  I 
painted  privately  because  I  wished  to  be  sure  of  myself 
before  incurring  criticism  or  censure  for  neglecting  my 
other  studies.  But  scarcely  had  I  finished  my  first  can- 
vas when  my  father's  death  occurred,  and  years  passed 
ere  I  attempted  again  to  paint  in  oil  colors. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  illustrating  how  difficult  it  is  to  turn 
a  vigorous  mind  from  its  natural  bent,  that  although 
Brindesi's  instruction  was  wholly  in  linear  and  aerial  per- 
spective and  landscape  was  subordinate  figures  thrown  in, 
and  although  I  was  completely  captivated  by  the  pic- 
turesque scenes  about  me,  and  often  sketched  them  with 
great  care,  and  although  I  had  some  faculty  for  seizing 
a  likeness,  yet  whenever  I  undertook  an   imaginary  scene 


107 


it  was  almost  invariably  about  ships  and  the  sea.  And  so 
it  has  been  all  through  life. 

After  the  opening  of  the  Crimean  war  I  sent  a  number 
of  drawings  to  the  Illustrated  London  News,  represent- 
ing scenes  connected  with  the  marine  operations  of  that 
conflict.  They  were  accepted  and  published.  Alone  with 
a  Turkish  boatman,  I  skirmished  about  the  Bosphorous 
and  stored  my  memory  and  my  sketch  book  with  many 
interesting  and  attractive  scenes.  On  one  occasion,  in 
my  seventeenth  year,  I  followed  the  example  of  so  many 
newspaper  illustrators,  and  sent  to  the  London  Il- 
lustrated News  an  "original"  drawing  of  the  wreck  of 
an  Egyptian  Line  of  battleship  on  the  coast  of  the  Black 
Sea.  It  was  a  wild  night  scene,  the  doomed  vessel  in  the 
foreground,  her  spars  partly  gone  and  her  foresail  flying 
in  the  gale  as  she  plunged  madly  towards  the  breakers. 
The  picture  received  the  place  of  honor  on  the  first  page 
of  the  paper.  I  well  remember  my  father's  delight.  I  was 
busy  in  my  room,  turning  over  my  "Liddell  and  Scott," 
when  I  heard  him  stepping  quickly  across  the  hall.  The 
next  moment  he  entered  the  door,  his  face  beaming  and 
holding  out  to  me  the  Illustrated  News  which  had  just 
arrived  by  mail.  I  am  sure  that  he  was  more  elated  than 
I. 

Strange  to  say,  when  I  intimated  to  my  father  that  I 
wished  to  become  a  professional  artist,  devoting  all  my 
energies  to  that  pursuit,  he  kindly  but  strenuously  op- 
posed my  plan.  The  singular  fact  in  this  case  was,  that 
my  father  acknowledged  that  I  had  a  distinct  turn  in  that 
direction  and  that  he  had  given  me  every  opportunity 
available  to  emphasize  it,  even  to  drawing  on  his  pros- 
pective patrimony  to  pay  for  my  art  instruction.     But  it 

108 


seems  that  he  had  merely  intended  it  as  an  accompKsh- 
ment  to  enlarge  my  mental  scope  and  add  to  my  happiness. 
He  knew  little  about  the  condition  of  art  in  America  ex- 
cept that  it  had  yet  to  win  solid  achievement  and  recog- 
nition, in  other  branches  than  portraiture  for  which  I 
had  less  inclination.  To  send  me  to  encounter  the  temp- 
tations of  Paris  was  beyond  his  own  intentions  and  means. 
It  was  his  cherished  wish  that  I  should  enter  college, 
where  both  he  and  my  grandmother  hoped  that  I  might 
be  influenced  to  study  for  the  ministry  and  become  a  mis- 
sionary, but  this  phase  of  the  question  he  discretely  re- 
frained from  pressing.  Possibly  he  already  discerned 
what  I  had  always  felt,  that  that  was  the  very  last  vocation 
for  which  I  was  fitted.  Then  I  urged  him  to  allow  me  to 
go  to  sea  or  to  enter  the  naval  academy.  A  sea  life  or 
the  life  of  a  sea  painter  was  what  I  desired  then  with  more 
urgency  than  anything  I  have  ever  wanted  to  do.  But 
they  both  felt  so  earnestly  on  the  subject,  that  after  ser- 
ious deliberation  I  agreed  to  enter  college,  with  a  saving 
clause  that  I  should  follow  my  own  choice  of  occupation 
after  graduation.  I  was  seventeen  at  the  time  of  this  de- 
cision and  it  was  settled  that  I  should  shortly  proceed  to 
\merica  and  enter  college.  Having  formed  a  definite 
resolution,  I  wasted  no  vain  regrets  on  the  subject,  but 
with  a  sort  of  fatalism  decided  to  do  my  best,  and  leave 
the  opportunities  or  results  to  destiny.  Even  at  that 
early  age  I  began  dimly  to  perceive  that  man's  so-called 
free  agency  is  a  fond  delusion.  His  fate  depends  largely 
on  causes  outside  of  his  volition  and  power,  although  the 
theory  of  free  agency  may  serve  to  encourage  him  to  per- 
severe, from  his  sense  of  individualism. 


109 


One  of  the  best  instructors  I  ever  had  was  Madame 
Brun,  wlio  gave  me  considerable  advancement  in  French, 
at  Constantinople.  She  conversed  admirably,  and  I 
learned  in  that  way  as  much  as  by  exercises  and  text 
books.  She  had  lived  in  Russia  and  Poland,  and  the  facts 
she  gave  me  about  the  Russian  government  and  the  rela- 
tion of  nobles  and  serfs  did  much  to  enlighten  me  at 
the  time  of  the  approach  of  the  Crimean  war;  this  in- 
fluence was  likewise  of  assistance  to  me,  along  with  other 
clues,  for  arriving  at  the  practical  knowledge  of  Russian 
character  and  policy,  which  proved  useful  to  me  when  I 
had  official  dealings  with  Russian  diplomats  at  a  later  da}'. 

The  missionary  colony  at  Constantinople  was  dis- 
tributed over  three  districts,  of  which  one  was  in  the 
European-Greco  quarter  called  Pera ;  another  in  the  Ar- 
mcno-Jewish  suburb  of  Hasskeuy,  and  the  third  at  Bebek, 
one  of  the  most  exquisite  spots  on  the  face  of  the  globe. 
The  year  before  we  left  the  East  a  lodgment  was  also 
effected  in  Yeni  Kapoo,  the  Armenian  quarter  of  the  old 
city  within  the  walls,  hitherto  closed  to  European  resi- 
dents. It  was  the  custom  of  the  American  missionaries  to 
hold  what  was  called  a  station  meeting  every  Saturday  at 
some  one  of  these  places  to  discuss  business  and  advise  re- 
garding their  Christian  labors.  The  families  generally  ac- 
companied them.  We  went  sometimes  in  arabas  or  cur- 
ious native  coaches  drawn  by  oxen  and  long  since  extinct, 
squatting  on  the  mattress  spread  over  the  floor  as  people 
go  when  taking  what  is  called  a  straw-ride  in  New  Eng- 
land, But  generally  we  preferred  the  fleet  Constantinople 
wherries  called  caiques;  they  were  rowed  by  athletic  oars- 
men whose  costume  consisted  of  a  white  intermixed  silk 
and  cotton  shirt  open  at  the  neck  and  bosom,  and  with 

110 


loose  flowing  sleeves  which  exposed  the  brawny  arm.  The 
leg  was  bare  below  the  full  white  breeches  which  reached 
to  the  knee.  The  rich  sunbrown  of  the  skin,  the  grey  or 
black  mustache,  the  scarlet  fez  and  blue  tassel,  the  varie- 
gated silk  girdle  and  the  red  shoes  added  harmonious  notes 
of  color  in  keeping  with  the  vivid  tints  of  sea,  sky  and 
landscape,  and  the  black  hue  and  gilded  carving  of  the 
boat,  the  tout  ensemble  presenting  an  unsurpassed  effect 
of  physical  manhood  decorated  with  consummate,  even  if 
unconscious  artistic  result.  Thus  we  skimmed  by  garden, 
tower,  and  town,  minaret,  C3'press,  grave,  kiosk  and  palace 
between  the  romantic  shores  of  the  Bosphorus,  so  com- 
posed by  nature  that  never  was  it  seen  in  its  whole  extent, 
but  the  eye  was  carried  from  point  to  point,  and  the  fancy 
was  ever  stimulated  by  reaching  out  to  what  was  beyond. 
Art  can  no  farther  go  than  to  kindle  enthusiasm  and 
quicken  imaginative  curiosity  by  the  supreme  power  of 
suggestion. 

Sometimes  with  my  brother  and  two  companions  of 
our  age,  who  were  especially  associated  with  us  in  active 
sports,  I  walked  to  Bebek  on  the  occasions  mentioned 
above.  We  followed  the  string  of  villages  that  skirted 
the  shore.  The  distance  there  and  back  was  ten  miles. 
We  carried  short,  stout  clubs  to  defend  ourselves  against 
the  famous  groups  of  dogs  that  often  lay  in  the  middle 
of  the  street  at  cross-ways,  or  prowled  about  the  meat 
shops.  Singly  they  were  not  dangerous,  being  a  low- 
down  lot  of  curs,  but  a  dozen  flying  at  us  at  once,  re- 
quired us  to  bestir  ourselves.  We  were  liable  also  to  be 
insulted  or  have  stones  thrown  at  us,  for  we  were  "Frang- 
his^'  or  foreign  devils.  As  we  went  about  metaphorically 
speaking,   with    chips    on   our   shoulders,    somewhat    rash, 

111 


haughty  and  proud  of  being  Yankees,  it  is  a  wonder  that 
we  never  met  with  any  serious  adventure.  When  I  look 
back  to  my  life  in  the  East,  I  am  amazed  at  the  immunity 
we  enjoyed,  and  the  general  good  nature  and  courtesy  of 
the  natives,  and  especially  the  Turks,  who  certainly  had 
no  reason  to  love  Christians  or  Europeans. 

Once  a  year  the  annual  meeting  of  the  missionaries  of 
the  American  Board  resident  in  Turkey  was  held  at  Con- 
stantinople. Of  course  all  could  not  come  the  same  year, 
but  they  alternated  in  representing  the  stations.  As 
their  families  usually  accompanied  the  delegates,  these 
occasions  served  for  a  change  and  perhaps  a  rest.  On 
reaching  the  capital  the  delegates  were  quartered  on  the 
resident  missionary  families.  These  visits  lasted  two  or 
three  weeks.  They  were  enjoyable  to  the  young  people 
whose  companionship  in  a  foreign  land,  especially  in  the 
interior  of  Turkey,  was  limited,  while  their  school  books 
were  closed  for  the  time  being.  But  my  impression  is, 
that  these  occasions  made  a  large  draught  on  the  stor- 
age of  Christian  feeling,  brotherly  love  and  physical 
strength  of  their  elders.  The  services  were  conducted 
with  a  melancholy  fervor  that  seemed  to  suggest  the  com- 
plete isolation  of  the  missionary  community  in  a  distant, 
foreign  land. 

I  remember  that  on  one  occasion  Dr.  Schauffler,  after 
some  very  affecting  words,  paused,  looking  over  his  au- 
dience with  dread  solemnity,  said,  "My  brethren  and 
sisters,  we  too  may  say,  like  the  old  Guard  when  sum- 
moned to  yield,  we  too  may  exclaim,  that  whatever  betide 
us,  'The  Old  Guard  dies ;  the  Old  Guard  never  surren- 
ders !"  To  them,  all  the  teeming  millions  about  them 
were  proceeding  with  headlong  speed  to  eternal  suffering 

112 


and  damnation,  and  how  few  had  been  gathered  into  the 
fold  of  salvation.  If  they  could  but  have  seen  their 
position,  as  we  see  it,  how  their  souls  would  have  rejoiced! 
Although  the  ninnber  of  genuine  converts  to  the  faith 
taught  by  American  missionaries  was  yet  small  compared 
with  the  total  population  of  the  Turkish  empire, 
the  net  result  was  important  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
the  men  and  women  who  had  first  broken  ground  there 
were  still  living  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  their  powers. 
The  converts  not  only  numbered  thousands  already  but 
Avere  sufficiently  numerous,  intelligent  and  influential  to  be 
formed  into  a  separate  community  like  that  of  the  Greeks 
and  Armenians,  represented  at  the  Grand  Porte  by  an  of- 
ficial head  who  cared  for  their  secular  and  religious  rights. 
But  far  more  than  this,  the  missionaries  had  sown  the  fields 
with  seed  that  they  forgot  required  ages  to  produce  full 
crops,  but  which  could  not  result  in  crops  unless  first  it 
be  sown.  In  the  evolution  of  religious  thought  during 
the  last  half  century,  it  is  now  generally  considered  that 
men  here  and  hereafter  are  to  be  weighed  and  tried  by  a 
common  standard,  to  wit  that  they  are  estimated  by  the 
degree  in  which  they  endeavor  to  do  their  duty  according 
to  their  environment,  according  to  the  conscience  pro- 
duced by  that  environment.  If  this  conclusion  be  sound 
the  highest  result  so  far  reached  by  the  missionary  enter- 
prise it  would  seem,  has  been  to  stimulate  altruism  and 
thus  to  enlarge  the  standard  of  ethical  or  spiritual  ef- 
fort among  our  own  people — and  this  is  no  small  gain. 

To  descend  from  important  to  unimportant  matters,  I 
ma}'  add  that  the  work  of  the  mission,  and  especially  the 
annual  meetings,  were  advantageous  to  me  both  pe- 
cuniarily, and  because  they  stimulated  habits   of  careful 

113 


application.  Many  of  the  missionary  documents  required 
to  be  copied.  There  were  no  typewriters  at  that  time; 
and  these  papers  were  turned  over  to  me.  I  did  the  work 
for  much  less  than  an  adult,  but  the  sum  total  was  of 
material  value  to  a  youth  who  had  so  little  spending 
money.  Envelopes  were  just  beginning  to  be  used.  Ob- 
taining samples  here  and  there,  I  laid  them  on  a  sheet  of 
paper  and  drew  the  outline  around  them.  This  I  cut 
out  with  scissors,  folded  and  pasted.  I  sold  such  rough 
and  ready  envelopes  among  the  missionaries  and  the  Eng- 
lish, and  so  added  to  my  savings  that  at  sixteen  I  bought 
myself  a  brand,  new,  silver,  hunting  watch,  hand  made  of 
course,  which  did  good  service  until  it  was  picked  out  of 
my  brother's  pocket  while  he  was  absorbed  gazing  at  a 
picture  in  a  window  on  Broadway,  New  York,  just  before 
he  was  commissioned  for  the  Civil  War. 

Our  house  was  situated  in  the  heart  of  Pera,  opposite 
the  grounds  of  the  British  embassy.  It  was  two  stor- 
ies above  the  ground  floor,  the  latter  of  stone  being  de- 
voted to  the  kitchen,  stable  and  offices.  The  two  upper 
stories  were  of  wood;  above  them  was  a  large  attic. 
There  was  a  small  backyard,  and  the  cellar,  which  was 
closed  with  windows,  leading  to  a  flight  of  stone  stairs 
damp  with  mould,  was  intended  for  the  storage  of  fur- 
niture in  case  of  fires,  for  which  Constantinople  was 
famous. 

The  Board  paid  part  of  the  house  rent  as  the  greater 
portion  of  the  second  floor  was  used  as  a  chapel,  the  par- 
titions being  removed.  Armenian,  Greek  and  English 
services  were  held  there  every  Sabbath. 

We  met  many  people  of  distinction  during  our  resi- 
dence  at   Constantinople.      The  proportion   of  American 

114 


tourists  who  visited  the  East  in  those  days  was  larger 
than  it  is  now,  partly  because  Algeria,  Sweden  and  Nor- 
way, Japan  and  other  now  oft  visited  regions,  had  not  yet 
filled  the  popular  eye,  while  the  enthusiasm  aroused  by  the 
Greek  Revolution  and  the  poetry  of  Lord  Byron  had  not 
altogether  waned.  There  was  no  one  who  visited  our 
house  at  that  time  whom  I  remember  more  vividly  than 
General  Williams,  the  celebrated  defender  and  hero  of 
Kars.  He  was  a  typical  English  soldier,  tall,  squarely 
built,  erect,  with  a  sort  of  leonine  aspect  in  his  bearing, 
yet  modest  withal.  His  keen  blue  eye  was  frank  and  hon- 
est, his  florid  complexion  was  mellowed  by  exposure  and 
emphasized  by  a  trim,  iron  grey  mustache,  and  his  reso- 
nant voice  was  full  and  hearty.  Altogether  General  Wil- 
liams seemed  a  man  who  could  be  gentle  to  his  friends, 
and  terrible  to  his  enemies.  The  illustrious  Sir  Strat- 
ford Canning,  later  Lord  Stratford  de  Redclyffe,  was  at 
that  time  British  ambassador  near  the  Grand  Porte,  one 
of  the  few  diplomats  who  have  thoroughly  penetrated  and 
understood  Russia's  unscrupulous  and  devious  policy,  or 
rather  her  undeviating  deviovisness,  and  never  flinched 
from  his  duty  of  resisting  her  plans  for  panslavic  exten- 
sion. I  saw  him  often  and  recollect  him  as  of  spare  habit 
and  pale,  but  masterful  features,  a  nervous  manner,  and 
quick,  incisive  speech.  It  is  said  that  he  not  rarely  swore 
abundantly  Avhen  his  rage  was  aroused.  Of  this  I  have 
no  personal  knowledge,  but  I  did  see  him  preside  with  im- 
pressive dignity  at  a  memorable  meeting  convened  at  Mis- 
seri's  hotel  for  prayer  and  conference  by  the  missionar- 
ies, the  Protestant  members  of  the  diplomatic  corps,  and 
other  residents  at  Constantinople  during  the  Crimean 
War.     ^Nlanv  of  them  felt  with  sound  reason  that  one  of 


115 


Russia's  aims  in  forcing  the  war  on  Turkey  was  to  check 
the  progress  of  the  missionary  work,  which  would  tend  to 
liberalize  thought  and  religion  in  a  country  she  herself 
proposed  to  absorb  in  good  time. 

The  Crimean  War  broke  out  in  1853.  I  do  not  propose 
to  go  into  the  origin  and  causes  of  that  war;  the  miserable 
business  of  the  Holy  Places  in  which  Christian  nations 
display  the  childish  and  pitifully  human  side  of  the  majes- 
tic creed  they  profess,  nor  to  narrate  the  chicanery,  ar- 
rogance and  duplicity  by  which,  under  the  guise  of  re- 
ligious zeal,  the  Czar  of  Holy  Russia  proposed  to  gain 
the  whip  hand  in  the  control  of  the  Turkish  empire;  nor 
would  I  describe  the  events  of  the  great  war  that  followed. 
But  I  may  narrate  here  as  succinctly  as  may  be  some  of 
the  characteristic  incidents  that  came  under  my  own  ob- 
servation. 

I  well  remember  the  day,  in  May  of  1853,  when  Prince 
Menschikof,  the  fiery  and  haughty  envoy  of  Russia, 
took  his  departure  from  Constantinople,  baffled  in  his  mad 
attempt  to  bully  the  Sultan  into  making  a  new  treaty  in 
time  of  peace,  and  practically  abandoning  to  the  sov- 
ereignty of  the  Czar,  the  Greek  subjects  of  Turkey,  legally 
subjects  although  members  of  the  Greco-Russian  church, 
as  legally  the  subjects  of  the  Moslem  as  the  Cossacks  were 
subjects  of  the  Muskovite.  The  courageous  firmness  of 
the  Turk,  which  has  so  often  stood  him  in  good  stead, 
backed  in  this  case  by  the  astute  firmness  of  Sir  Strat- 
ford Canning,  thwarted  the  treacherous  designs  of  the 
Slav,  and  out  of  mortified  pride,  issued  war.  The  pal- 
ace of  the  Russian  embassy  was  a  pillared  pile  of  yellow 
stone  situated  on  the  Grand  Rue  de  Pcra,  and  on  the  brow 
of  the  steep  slope  commanding  from  the  rear  windows  a 

116 


supei'b  view  of  the  Bosphorus  and  the  Golden  Horn,  the 
Seraglio  Point,  St.  Sophia,  and  the  Sea  of  Marmora  be- 
yond. It  was  one  of  the  first  objects  to  meet  the  eye  as 
one  entered  the  port.  The  grounds  were  protected  on  the 
street  side  by  a  high  iron  fence  with  gilded  gates  sur- 
mounted by  the  two-headed  eagle  of  Russia.  (Thirty 
years  after  that  day  I  passed  through  those  gates  to  call 
on  the  Russian  ambassador  when  I  in  turn  was  on  the  way 
to  establish  the  United  States  legation  in  Persia.) 

^Menschikof  departed  in  a  towering  rage.  His  diplo- 
macy was  discredited,  and  he  demanded  his  passports, 
ordered  his  carriage,  and  went  aboard  the  Russian  steamer 
with  the  entire  suite  of  the  embassy.  A  dense  crowd 
packed  the  Grand  Rue  de  Pera,  and  every  window  was 
filled  with  eager  faces,  when  the  colossal  descendant  of  all 
the  Menschikofs  issued  from  the  embassy  and  strode  to 
the  coachi  The  coachman  cracked  his  whip,  a  cloud  of 
uniformed  outriders  followed,  and  the  iron  gates  snapped 
together  with  a  clang  that  was  soon  to  be  echoed  back 
by  the  roar  of  guns  on  the  Euxine  and  the  Danube. 

It  was  not  long  before  news  began  to  come  from  the 
northern  frontiers,  where  the  Turks  were  making  heroic 
efforts  to  resist  the  advance  of  the  Russian  armies.  The 
greatest  excitement  prevailed  at  Constantinople ;  but  ad- 
mirable order  was  preserved,  notwithstanding  that  the 
fanaticism  of  the  ^Moslem  and  Christian  populations  might 
have  been  expected  to  lead  to  bloody  collisions.  But  the 
latter  for  once  showed  the  good  sense  to  keep  their  relig- 
ious passions  from  effervescing,  while  the  former  were  en- 
joined by  the  authorities  to  reserve  display  of  their  ardor 
for  the  battlefield.  Still,  there  was  naturally  a  certain 
explosive,   volcanic    quality    in    the    atmosphere    of   which 

117 


every  one  was  apprehensive  until  the  arrival  of  the  allied 
forces  brought  a  sense  of  relief.  When  we  consider  the 
wanton  and  perpetual  intrigues  and  attacks  to  which  the 
integrity  of  the  Turkish  empire  has  been  subjected  for 
centuries,  the  forbearance  the  Turks  have  usually  shown 
to  the  Christian  populations  must  be  admitted  even  by 
those  who  can  see  only  one  side  to  the  Turkish  character, 
rights  and  polity.  For  my  part,  I  marvel  at  their  general 
good  nature  and  moderation,  and  the  greed  and  duplicity 
of  those  who  profess  to  be  standard  bearers  of  the  Cross 
and  all  that  Christianity  implies  but  does  not  always  dis- 
play. The  unforewarned  and  treacherous  destruction  of 
the  Turkish  fleet  at  Sinope  by  a  far  more  powerful  Rus- 
sian force,  and  the  slaughter  of  4,000  Turks,  produced  a 
tremendous  sensation  at  Constantinople,  and  was  quali- 
fied to  arouse  a  justifiable  fury  of  the  Moslems  against 
the  Christians ;  but  not  a  soul  was  injured  on  that  ac- 
count. 

This  event,  however,  hastened  the  arrival  of  the  war 
fleets  of  France  and  England  in  the  Bosphorus,  followed 
by  transports  bearing  troops  and  munitions  of  war. 
There  is  one  fact  connected  with  the  Crimean  invasion, 
which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  mentioned  by  any 
of  its  historians.  This  was  its  theatric  character.  King- 
lake,  partly  an  eye-witness,  practically  exhausted  the  dip- 
lomatic and  military  aspects  of  the  subject  with  his  mar- 
velously  analytical  style  and  his  minutely  detailed  de- 
scriptions of  scenes,  persons  and  events,  but  what  King- 
lake  failed  to  give,  was  a  broad,  vivid  sketch  of  that  war 
in  its  entirety,  an  impression  of  the  conflict  as  seen  in 
the  mass,  rather  than  in  detail.  There  have  been  but 
few  great  wars  of  such  concentrated  efl'ect  as  that  of  the 

118 


siege  of  Sebastopol ;  as  one  who  was  on  the  spot,  so  to 
speak,  it  was  quite  natural  that  it  should  appear  to  mj^ 
young  mind  as  unusual  and  stupendous.  But  as  that 
great  movement  has  receded,  and  I  am  able  to  look  at  it 
in  its  right  perspective,  and  in  the  light  of  a  maturer  ex- 
perience, and  observation,  I  find  that  instead  of  losing,  it 
gains  in  relative  magnitude,  while  the  simplicity  of  its 
plan  enables  the  mind  to  grasp  more  readily  the  pictures- 
queness  of  its  details  and  the  concentrated  grandeur  of 
its  operations.  It  exhibited  certain  features  never  ex- 
hibited before  or  since,  on  such  a  colossal  scale,  and  which 
aided  to  make  it  vniique  in  the  records  of  war.  For  ex- 
ample, there  have  been  many  wars  in  which  far  mightier 
hosts  have  been  employed,  and  in  which  the  fame  of  far 
greater  captains  has  been  made  or  lost ;  but  none,  at  least 
since  the  invasion  of  Xerxes,  excepting,  perhaps,  the  re- 
cent war  in  South  Africa,  in  which  shipping  was  used  on 
such  a  vast  plan  (or  was  more  vital  to  the  prosecution  of 
the  enterprise),  and  none  in  modern  times  in  which  by 
common  consent  effort  was,  from  the  outset  so  com- 
pletely and  decisively  directed  to  one  point.  From  the 
first,  the  eyes  of  the  world  were  focused  on  Sebastopol. 
It  was  like  a  desperate  game  in  which  both  sides  played 
out  their  trump  cards  at  the  very  beginning.  At 
Sebastopol,  Russia  massed  the  energy  of  her  hosts ;  to 
Sebastopol  the  fleets  of  England,  France,  Italy  and 
Turkey  bore  the  allied  armies  to  concentrate  their  guns 
on  the  vital  spot,  for  two  long  terrible  years  to  dig,  to 
fight,  to  suffer,  to  storm,  and  within  the  space  of  a  few 
miles  to  shape  the  destiny  of  Europe  for  ages.  All  the 
other  operations  of  the  hostile  powers  in  that  war,  the 
l)ombardment  of  Odessa  or  the  ports  of  the  Baltic,  the  at- 

119 


tack  on  Kertch,  the  siege  of  Kars,  were  mere  side  shows, 
subsidiary  episodes,  in  the  great  drama  whose  stage  was 
the  Crimea,  the  chief  character  and  victim  was  the  Czar 
Nicholas,  crushed,  broken-hearted,  to  the  grave,  and  the 
grand  climax  was  the  fall  of  Sebastopol. 

The  naval  fortress  of  Sebastopol  with  its  extensive 
dockyard  was  of  course  created  as  a  menace  to  Turkey. 
The  sailing  ships  of  the  Russian  fleet  on  the  Black  Sea 
could  easily  make  the  short  distance  to  Constantinople  in 
two  or  three  days  with  a  fair  wind,  and,  with  or  without 
wind,  dropping  down  the  Bosphorus  by  the  aid  of  the 
swift,  unremitting  currents  that  shoot  from  the  Euxine 
to  the  Dardanelles.  A  few  sailing  line  of  battleships 
would  have  placed  the  Turkish  empire  at  the  feet  of  Rus- 
sia if  it  were  not  for  apprehension  of  the  fleets  of  the 
powers.  But  it  was  quite  otherwise  with  the  allied  fleets. 
Sailing  vessels  going  northward  to  the  Black  Sea  cannot 
breast  the  currents  of  the  Bosphorus  except  with  a  strong 
fair  wind  from  the  south.  Hence,  whenever  the  south 
wind  set  in,  vast  white  winged  fleets  of  merchant  men,  aver- 
aging 10,000  annually,  were  seen  gliding  through  the 
azure  strait.  It  is  plain  that  no  such  expedition  as  that 
of  the  allies  could  have  held  together,  or  manoeuvred  ef- 
ficiently in  concert,  or  even  kept  the  army  in  supplies,  if 
they  had  been  obliged  to  depend  wholly  on  the  capricious 
breezes  from  the  south.  It  was  precisely  at  the  period 
shortly  preceding  this,  that  the  priceless  invention  of 
John  Erickson  of  the  screw-propellor  began  to  be  sup- 
plied to  men-of-war  and  merchant  vessels  of  magnitude. 
Economy  of  space  and  fuel  were  obtained  by  this  means, 
while  during  the  early  years  of  the  use  of  the  propellor 
little  or  no  change  was  made  in  the  sail  plan,  and  hence 

120 


such  magnificent  steam  transports  as  the  Himalayah  and 
the  Black  Prince  were  about  as  imposing  as  simple  sailing 
vessels,  and  ships-of-war  fitted  with  screws  like  the  Aga- 
memnon and  the  Jean  Bart  were  still  in  appearance  like 
the  old  line  of  battleships.  By  the  aid  of  these  steamers 
provided  with  steam  power  and  b}^  smaller  steam  tugs, 
the  mighty  fleets  of  the  allies  were  able  to  stem  the  cur- 
rents of  the  straits  and  reach  the  destination  in  tlie  Euxine 
Avithin  measurable  time  and  with  calculable  concert  of 
action.  And  what  a  spectacle  it  was  to  watch  these  ves- 
sels, either  under  sail  or  their  own  steam  or  following  the 
tow  line,  moving  day  after  day,  and  month  after  month, 
over  the  blue  waters  of  the  Bosphorus,  by  castle,  palace, 
minaret,  village  or  foliaged  cliff,  to  the  stormy  waves  of 
the  lowering  Euxine  and  the  bloody  theatre  of  war.  Mag- 
nificent and  imposing  beyond  anything  one  sees  now  in 
our  day  were  the  gathering  of  stately  line  of  battleships 
with  their  triple  rows  of  guns,  or  lithe,  saucy  frigates 
anchored  at  Beycos  on  the  Bosphorus.  ]Many  an  hour, 
spyglass  in  hand,  did  I  watch  these  thrilling  spectacles 
from  my,  window,  or,  rowed  by  some  picturesque  Turk,  in 
a  swift  caique,  among  the  anchored  or  moving  fleets,  and 
hear  the  merry  whistles  of  the  boatswains  which  trilled 
over  the  water  like  the  music  of  birds,  while  the  crews 
practiced  at  the  guns  or  swarmed  aloft  like  bees. 

In  this  soft  atmosphere,  the  blending  of  the  red  of 
the  standards,  the  gleam  of  the  bayonets,  or  the  bur- 
nished corselet  of  a  cuirassier  merged  in  an  harmonious 
pattern  with  the  dazzling  red  and  gold  uniforms  of  the 
chief  officers,  all  made  up  to  my  boyish  fancy  a  veil  of 
roseate  gauze.  The  romance  of  war,  never  more  em- 
phatically displayed  than  at  the  review  of  Ranice  Tchi- 

J21 


flik,  so  soon  alas !  to  be  transformed  into  the  cruel  heart- 
rending tragedies  of  Inkerman  and  Balaklava. 

The  Turks  looked  on  with  calm  surprise,  except  when 
soldiers  attacked  their  cherished  customs  or  prejudices, 
especially  where  women  were  concerned.  -  Two  French 
sailors  approaching  a  native  carriage  on  the  bridge  of 
Galata,  boldly  raised  the  veil  of  the  lady  riding  within 
— no  one  may  do  this,  with  impunity,  even  if  the  woman 
be  a  prostitute  or  the  wife  of  the  man  who  does  it.  The 
two  sailors  were  sabred  on  the  spot,  and  no  farther  notice 
was  taken  of  the  matter.  Foreign  ambassadors  never  in- 
terfere in  such  cases. 

One  day  an  incident  occurred  that  struck  me  like  an 
electric  shock ;  I  seemed  to  see  the  great  Napoleon  in  a 
figure  that  rode  past  me  on  the  narrow  street.  "Who  is 
that  cavalier  .f'"  I  asked  impetuously  of  a  soldier  near  by. 
"Why!  don't  you  know.^"  he  said,  "that  is  Prince  Napole- 
on, cousin  of  the  present  Emperor,  and  nephew  of  the 
great  Napoleon."  The  lower  features  of  the  two  were  very 
alike,  and  on  horseback  with  the  head  covered,  they  might 
easily  have  been  mistaken  for  one  another,  but  the  young 
Prince  lacked  the  high,  full,  massive  brow  of  his  dis- 
tinguished uncle.  I  saw  at  that  time  the  famous  "Scots 
Greys,"  the  cavalry  regiment  who  participated  in  the 
charge  at  Balaklava,  and  were  immortalized  by  Tenny- 
son in  his  lyric,  "The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade." 

The  large  yellow  quadrangle  of  barracks  on  the  heights 
of  Scutari  received  many  of  the  Crimean  wounded,  and 
it  was  there  that  Florence  Nightingale  bestowed  the 
greater  part  of  her  ministrations.  It  was  there  that  I  saw 
her ;  as  I  remember  her,  she  was  a  tall,  slender,  gracefully 
formed,   though   rather   flat-chested   young  woman.      She 

122 


was  dressed  in  white,  her  brown  hair  arranged  in  smooth 
bands  over  the  temples  and  ears,  the  style  of  that  period. 
It  suited  her  oval  face  which  was  comely  and  refined,  yet 
rather  lacking  in  strength.  To  the  casual  observer,  she 
seemed  a  sweet,  delicate,  typical  English  lady,  and  it  was 
doubtless  her  Christian  charity  and  desire  to  relieve  suf- 
fering that  developed  in  her  the  force  of  character  that 
took  one  of  her  retiring  disposition  so  far  away  among 
strangers.  As  I  remember  her  through  the  mists  of  the 
past,  flitting  like  some  white  angel  through  the  long,  dark 
corridors  of  the  Scutari  Hospital,  it  is  as  though  I  saw 
some  sweet  impersonation  of  the  "spirit  of  self-abnega- 
tion," rather  than  a  being  of  flesh  and  blood. 

While  the  allied  army  were  in  and  about  Constantinople 
a  great  prayer  meeting  was  held  in  the  drawing-room  of 
the  Misseres  Hotel  d'  Angleterre.  Many  of  the  English 
army  soldiers  belonged  to  a  new  sect  called  the  "Plymouth 
Brethren."  They  were  earnest  zealots,  and  were  very 
democratic  in  their  religious  affinities — they  seem  to  me  to 
have  been  fore-runners  in  a  way,  of  the  Salvation  Army. 
They  attended  the  missionary  meetings,  but  meekness  was 
not  an  article  of  their  creed,  they  were  of  the  "Church 
Militant"  and  argued  warmly  with  the  missionaries  on 
the  error  of  their  sectarianism,  which  seemed  to  me  rich- 
ness, considering  all  the  circumstances.  By  Protestants, 
generally,  the  religious  aspects  of  the  war  were  well  under- 
stood, viz. :  the  ever-recurring  question  of  ownership  or 
disposal  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  religious  places  at 
Jerusalem. 

About  this  time,  perhaps  to  emulate  the  life  of  a  sol- 
dier, I  began  to  train  myself  to  Spartan  discipline.  I 
poured  a  pail  of  ice-cold  water  over  m^^self  every  morning, 

123 


for  two  winters,  in  an  open  room,  regardless  of  exposure. 
I  secretly  took  off  the  mattress  and  slept  on  the  bare 
boards  of  my  bed,  and  by  the  way,  I  never  slept  better, 
and  I  really  believe  the  process  (which  my  family  objected 
to)  strengthened  a  tenacious,  although  yielding  consti- 
tution. 

I  was  full  of  an  enthusiasm  and  interest  in  life,  and  not 
reserved  in  the  expression  of  emotion ;  a  maturer  experi- 
ence has  taught  me  that  to  disguise  one's  feelings  under  an 
impassive  exterior  is  sometimes  the  wisest  policy. 

Bebck  is  one  of  the  most  charming  and  romantic  spots 
in  the  world !  From  the  windows  of  our  house,  the  Bos- 
phorus,  shut  in  by  hills  and  promontories  looked  like  a 
lake.  Opposite  were  the  green  groves  skirting  the  heavenly 
waters  and  the  old  castle  of  Asia.  At  one  side  was  a  vil- 
lage, rising  on  steep  terraces,  and  on  the  other  side  rose 
the  battlemented  tower  of  the  castle  of  Europe,  rising 
picturesquely  above  a  group  of  cypresses.  These  two 
castles  were  built  by  ]\Iahomet,  preparatory  to  the  cap- 
ture of  Constantinople.  At  that  point  was  the  bridge  of 
boats  on  which  the  army  of  Darius  crossed  from  Asia 
into  Thrace.  There  was  a  charm  about  this  beautiful 
spot  and  our  sweet  family  life  together  there,  which  was 
soon  to  be  rudely  broken.  Blow  after  blow  descended 
upon  us.  The  idyllic  life  was  shattered;  we  were,  so  to 
speak,  sent  adrift  to  breast  the  billow's  of  destiny.  Such 
crises  come  to  all!  We  are  not  choosers,  and  for  happi- 
ness we  sometimes  have  to  pay  pawn-brokers'  price !  If 
there  is  "no  cloud  without  its  silver  lining,"  it  seems  to 
be  equally  true,  there  is  no  "silver  lining"  without  a 
shadow,  correspondingly  dark. 


124 


Owing  to  the  death  of  my  beautiful  sister,  Mary,  in 
1854,  my  departure  for  America  to  enter  college  was  post- 
poned to  the  following  year.  About  midsummer  I  accepted 
an  invitation  to  become  the  guest  of  Mr.  and  Mrs,  Henry 
Van  Lennep,  already  mentioned  in  the  previous  chapter. 
They  were  summering  in  a  plain  country  farm  house  on 
the  Island  of  Prinkipo,  one  of  the  Princes  Islands  in 
the  Sea  of  Marmora.  Whatever  the  cause  I  became  aware 
in  a  few  days  that  I  was  on  the  eve  of  a  severe  illness  and 
hastened  home.  The  physician,  one  of  the  best  in  Con- 
stantinople, immediately  ordered  me  to  be  leeched  and  bled. 
This  was  done  by  a  barber,  who  in  the  East,  as  in  Europe 
in  the  days  of  Gil  Bias,  was  also  half  a  surgeon.  I  am  not 
prepared  to  decide  absolutely  against  the  use  of  phle- 
botomy, at  least  in  such  climates,  although  it  is  the  fashion 
now  to  condemn  the  letting  of  blood  as  a  relic  of  bar- 
barism. This  remedy  was  tried  on  me,  several  times  in 
childhood  and  youth,  for  fevers  and  contusions,  and  not 
only  did  I  recover,  but  no  ill  results  appeared  to  follow. 
From  the  first,  my  case  was  pronounced  critical.  I  be- 
came so  low  that  no  one  spoke  in  the  house  above  a  whis- 
per. That  was  the  symptom  I  remember  as  the  most  pain- 
ful throughout  my  sickness — extreme  sensitiveness  to 
noise.  I  was  conscious  throughout,  but  apathetic.  And 
yet,  although  apparently  so  free  from  pain,  I  was  but  a 
hair  breadth  from  the  grave.  I  suppose  this  is  often  the 
case  Avith  the  sick.  Those  who  have  been  rescued  from 
the  clutch  of  the  lion's  paw  have  said  that  after  the  first 
blow,  dread  of  the  fearful  end  that  impended,  seemed  to 
yield  to  a  passive  acceptance  of  doom. 

My  convalescence  was  slow.  When  able  to  be  moved 
I  was  laid  on  the  divan  bv  the  window  where  I  could  see 


125 


the  white  winged  vessels  passing  by.  jMy  mother  read  to 
me,  and  they  all  ministered  to  my  every  want  as  to  one 
raised  from  the  dead,  for  all  hope  had  been  abandoned. 
As  my  strength  returned  I  became  aware  of  the  sudden 
unfolding  of  a  new  phase  of  my  mind.  Although  my 
course  of  reading  had  been  multifarious,  yet  I  had  read 
less  poetry  than  other  departments  of  literature,  and 
although  appreciating  Virgil  when  studying  the  Aeneid, 
I  had  been  practically  indifferent  to  poetry,  my  sense  for 
beauty  and  the  emotions  it  arouses  having  found  vent 
chiefly  in  an  enthusiasm  for  pictorial  art.  But  now  I 
found  myself  yearning  to  read  and  write  poetry,  and  this 
feeling  first  manifested  itself  in  a  curious  way.  There 
was  in  Dr.  Hamlin's  parlor  a  copy  of  Scott's  Rokehy, 
handsomely  bound  and  illustrated.  I  had  amused  myself 
with  looking  at  the  engravings  while  listening  to  the^  music 
of  his  fair  daughters  on  the  pia.no,  but  had  felt  no  in- 
clination to  read  the  poem.  But  it  was  to  read  this  very 
poem  that  intense  hunger  now  seized  me,  a  hunger  akin 
to  the  convalescent's  desire  for  food.  Diffident  of  letting 
my  mother  know  of  this  newly  awakened  taste,  I  confided 
my  secret  to  one  of  my  companions.  He  smuggled  the 
precious  copy  of  Rohehy  into  my  room,  and  I  devoured 
it  on  the  sly,  hiding  it  under  my  pillow  whenever  my 
mother's  footstep  was  heard.  JMy  bashfulness  on  the 
subject  was  needless,  for  her  poetic  nature  keenly  sym- 
pathized with  mine  when  the  secret  at  last  came  out. 
That  settled  the  matter.  I  devoured  every  book  of  poetry 
I  could  lay  hold  of;  and  some  very  good  poetry  they  had 
in  those  days.  Some  of  it  may  have  gone  out  of  fashion 
with  the  more  modern  reader,  as  that  of  our  day  will  in 
turn  be  laid  aside,  but  it  was  quite  up  to  the  best  of  today, 

126 


perhaps  better.  Being  then  as  now  a  wide  liker,  Milton, 
Young,  Cowper,  Bryant,  Southey,  Burns,  Campbell, 
Byron,  Coleridge,  Keats,  Hemans,  Scott,  Wordsworth, 
Whittier,  Longfellow,  and  Goethe,  Schiller,  Camoens  in 
translations,  the  Brownings,  Tennyson,  and  many  others 
were  read  with  the  avidity  with  which  one  gathers  the 
glittering  coin  of  a  newly  found  treasure.  Shakespeare 
and  the  English  dramatists  I  cared  less  for  at  that  time 
than  for  Homer,  Euripides  and  Moliere.  I  grew  up  to  a 
fuller  appreciation  of  him  in  later  years,  and  still  measure 
my  intellectual  growth  by  gaining  capacity  to  understand 
and  enjoy  the  works  of  that  greatest  mind  in  the  realms  of 
literature,  Homer  and  Dante  completing  the  triad  of 
which  Shakespeare  is  the  head.  Of  the  poets  with  whose 
genius  I  became  acquainted  at  that  time  and  much  of  whose 
work  I  still  read  with  pleasure,  Byron  and  Tennyson 
maintain  a  specially  strong  hold  on  my  fancy.  The  lat- 
ter appeals  to  me  in  almost  any  mood  as  a  thinker,  a 
poet,  or  a  literary  artist ;  while  the  former  carries  me  back 
to  the  home  of  my  childhood  and  youth.  I  am  now  able 
to  see  the  mere  fustian  of  many  of  his  verses.  But  they 
contain  a  residuum  of  lofty  merit  that  fires  certain  chords 
in  my  nature,  and  the  cantos  of  "Childe  Harold"  and 
"Don  Juan"  relating  to  the  Levant  transport  me  back 
to  the  Greece  and  Turkey  of  those  years  as  does  nothing 
else  that  has  ever  been  put  in  print.  No  one  has  equalled 
Byron  in  the  power  to  appreciate,  and  the  genius  to  de- 
scribe the  picturesqueness,  the  fury,  the  languor,  in  the 
life,  scenery  and  character  of  those  climes.  His  "Isles  of 
Greece"  is  an  immortal  epitome  of  the  sentiments  and 
emotions  they  suggest;  and  his  description  of  Haidee,  and 
especially  of  her  grim  sire  Lambro,  are  amazingly  truth- 

127 


ful  portraits  of  the  people  among  whom  my  childhood  was 
passed. 

The  next  phase  of  the  awakening  of  the  poetic  in  my 
nature  was  a  keen  desire  for  its  expression ;  and  I  began 
to  scribble  verses  with  a  burning  fervor  that  seemed  to 
indicate  that  this  was  destined  to  be  my  vocation.  I  would 
spring  from  my  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  strike  a 
light,  and  scratch  off  the  lines  that  came  to  me  almost 
without  effort.  Between  sketching  and  reading  and  writ- 
ing poetry  my  brain  was  in  a  complete  ferment.  In  one 
pocket  I  carried  a  notebook  for  my  crude  effusions,  and 
in  another  a  drawing  book  in  whose  pages  to  dash  off  a 
picturesque  bit  of  landscape  or  marine.  Once  on  my  feet 
again,  I  seemed  to  have  more  than  regained  the  vigor, 
which  in  spite  of  my  short  stature,  made  me  crave  athletic 
sports,  for  which  I  trained  myself  in  a  fervor  to  emulate 
the  Spartans.  This  was  done  in  secret,  but  one  morning 
I  forgot  to  replace  the  mattress,  the  secret  was  discovered, 
and  I  was  strictly  enjoined  to  practice  this  heroic  physical 
training  no  more. 

After  our  return  to  tlie  city  for  the  winter,  I  prepared 
to  leave  for  America  in  the  spring,  when  our  family  was 
overwhelmed  by  an  irretrievable  and  apparently  final  sor- 
row. Our  house  was  unhealthy,  owing  to  bad  sewage,  and 
the  gathering  of  stagnant  water  in  the  fire  magazine  or 
cellar.  Such  matters  were  less  understood  at  that  time 
than  now ;  and  our  long  immunity  from  disease  had  blinded 
us  to  the  lurking  perils  that  were  gradually  permeating 
every  corner  of  our  house  with  pestilential  air.  We  dis- 
covered our  mistake,  a  mistake  born  of  ignorance,  when 
my  dear  father  was  struck  down  with  typhus  fever.  Al- 
though he  had  a  strong  constitution,  this  being  his  first 

128 


serious  illness,  the  physicians  pronounced  the  case  hope- 
less from  the  outset,  as  the  attack  was  very  severe,  and 
his  system  had  been  sapped  by  a  great  strain  for  years, 
and  the  reserve  store  of  vitality  had  been  exhausted. 
He  was  conscious  until  within  a  few  hours  of  his  death, 
and  bade  us  all  a  calm,  affectionate  farewell. 

Thus,  on  the  27th  of  January,  1855,  at  the  early  age 
of  forty-two,  while  still  in  the  prime  of  his  powers,  passed 
away  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  useful  missionaries  ever 
commissioned  by  the  American  Board.  My  early  im- 
pression of  his  character  has  been  confirmed  as  I  have 
mingled  with  men  and  been  able  to  compare  him  with 
others  who  have  achieved  distinction.  He  had  scholarly 
tastes  and  acquired,  besides  the  ancient  classics,  the  Turk- 
ish, French,  Araienian  and  modern  Greek  languages.  In 
the  two  last  he  not  only  preached,  but  translated  many 
important  works,  such  as  Bunyan's  "Pilgrim's  Progress" 
and  Danbigne's  "History  of  the  Reformation."  He  had  a 
high  spirit  combined  with  great  modesty,  manly  courage, 
warm  affections,  artistic  tastes,  a  fine  ear  for  music,  the 
refined  manners  of  a  thorough  gentleman,  a  well  balanced 
judgment,  a  keen  knowledge  of  men,  and  infinite  tact. 
The  career  for  which,  in  my  opinion,  he  was  fitted  was 
diplomacy.  If  he  had  been  a  native  of  England  or  France 
he  would  have  achieved  position  in  that  profession.  For 
the  last  years  of  his  life  an  enormous  burden  of  labor  was 
laid  on  his  shoulders.  The  powers  of  no  missionary  in  the 
field  were  so  taxed  except  Dr.  Hamlin,  who  was  made  of 
steel  and  could  only  exist  by  keeping  his  nerves  at  high 
pressure.  Although  broken  by  chronic  neuralgia  and  the 
loss  of  his  daughter,  Mary,  my  father  rarely  retired  be- 
fore midnight,  and  was  in  his  study  again  and  resuming 

129 


his  pen  after  his  private  devotions,  before  breakfast.  He 
had  on  his  hands  at  the  same  time  the  work  of  translation 
and  revision,  the  writing  and  preaching  of  sermons  in 
Greek,  Armenian,  and  English,  the  editing  of  the  "Ave- 
daper,"  which  he  founded  and  which  was  the  first  Ar- 
menian newspaper  ever  published ;  and  to  crown  all  he 
was  the  treasurer  and  shipper  for  the  entire  mission  in 
Turkey,  which  meant  the  keeping  of  books,  the  reduction 
of  exchange,  and  a  vast  amount  of  correspondence.  After 
his  death  this  department  was  given  to  a  lay  missionary, 
being  alone  sufficient  to  occupy  the  entire  attention  of  one 
capable  man.  My  father's  abilities  are  concisely  but  justly 
stated  in  Allen's  and  Scott's  American  Biog.  Encyclo- 
paedia and  elsewhere,  viz. :  Allen's  Encyc.  Amer.  Biog., 
Lamb's  do.,  etc. 

My  mother  decided  to  return  with  the  remainder  of 
her  family  to  America  as  soon  as  the  preparations  for 
doing  so,  were  complete.  But  I  fell  ill  again  with  the 
same  disorder  that  had  brought  me  so  low  the  previous 
summer.  This  attack  was  less  severe;  I  was  pronounced 
out  of  danger  in  two  weeks,  and  in  another  week  was  able 
to  be  about  again.  Without  further  delay  we  took  up  our 
quarters  under  the  hospitable  roof  of  Dr.  Dwight  while  we 
proceeded  to  dispose  of  our  furniture  and  pack  what  we 
reserved  for  the  home  voyage.  Dr.  Dwight  had  recently 
moved  to  the  Armenian  quarters  called  Yeni  Kapoo  in 
the  old  Byzantium  or  City  proper,  named  by  the  Turks, 
Stambul.  Greeks  and  Armenians,  subjects  of  the  Porte, 
had  always  been  permitted  to  have  their  quarters  there, 
but  this  was  the  first  time  since  the  capture  of  Constan- 
tinople in  the  15th  century,  that  any  foreigner  or  Euro- 
pean had  been  permitted  to  live  within  the  walls  of  Stam- 

130 


bul.  For  Dr.  Dwiglit  to  do  so,  was  an  experiment  desirable 
in  order  to  be  in  the  heart  of  the  most  important  Ar- 
menian community  in  Turkey,  but  it  is  unlikely  that 
it  would  have  been  attempted  then  but  for  the  Crimean 
War  and  the  presence  of  the  Allies,  which  caused  the 
Turks  to  close  their  eyes  on  certain  infractions  of  their 
less  important  customs  and  prejudices.  Dr.  Dwight  lived 
miles  from  the  Golden  Horn,  near  the  ancient  battle- 
mented  walls  that  face  the  Marmora  Sea.  Almost  every 
day  I  passed  from  Dr.  Dwight's  to  our  house  to  see  to 
our  preparations.  I  generally  walked,  but  sometimes  took 
a  horse  part  of  the  way.  I  had  to  traverse  Stambul  alone, 
and  thus  obtained  a  better  idea  of  that  famous  capital 
than  I  could  possibly  have  gained  otherwise  at  that 
period. 

The  day  for  our  departure  was  not  far  distant  when 
my  dear  sister  Margaret,  about  thirteen  years  old,  was 
obliged  to  take  to  her  bed  with  the  same  dreadful  fever  of 
which  my  father  had  died.  The  strength  of  her  consti- 
tution prolonged  her  illness  and  rendered  her  sufferings 
very  acute.  She  passed  away  at  twilight.  We  were  all 
gathered  around  her  bed  as  she  breathed  her  last  sigh. 
At  that  instant  a  most  appalling  event  occurred.  A  ter- 
rible earthquake  shook  the  city  to  its  foundations.  Its 
violence  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  the  city  of 
Brusa  seventy  miles  distant  in  an  air  line  was  partially 
overthrown,  and  several  hundred  lives  were  lost,  while  an 
earthquake  wave  rolled  across  the  Sea  of  Marmora  and 
poured  over  the  battlements  of  the  city  walls  only  a  few 
yards  from  the  room  where  we  were  standing  by  the  side 
of  my  departed  sister.  In  all  my  experiences  I  remember 
no  hour  so  dreadful. 


131 


In  less  than  one  year  my  mother  had  lost  her  husband 
and  two  beloved  daughters.  Her  home  was  broken  up,  and 
she  was  now  to  seek  her  fortunes  in  what  had  practically 
become  to  her  although  the  home-land,  a  strange  land. 
But  this  was  no  time  to  falter.  Her  Christian  faith  and 
fortitude,  which  under  the  circumstances  I  was  hardly 
able  to  understand,  and  for  which  I  still  fail  to  find  ade- 
quate reason,  was  of  the  most  exalted  character.  With  a 
sublime  faith  that  all  was  as  it  should  be,  my  mother  bade 
farewell  to  her  friends  at  Constantinople,  whose  tender 
ministrations  in  her  hour  of  trial  had  increased  her  at- 
tachment, and  turned  her  face  westward. 


132 


YOUTH. 

PART  II. 


Glad  as  the  song  the  lark  at  daylight  sings. 

When  soaring  from  the  dew; 
A  roundelay  of  praise  she  flings. 

From  the  sun-smitten  blue. 


Not  always  thus!  at  last  arrived  the  day 

When  at  my  side  there  stood 
A  spirit  form,  not  like  her  sisters  gay. 

But  of  a  graver  mood. 

Low,  were  her  accents,  and  her  face  austere. 
She  whispered  "Youth  has  gone: 

Manhood  has  come:  and  hush!  for  draweth  near 
The  hour  of  sorroxo^s  daxvn." 


CHAPTER    V. 


COLLEGE  LIFE. 


The  death  of  my  father  and  of  my  two  sisters  at  Con- 
stantinople, combined  with  the  severe  iHness  I  had  myself 
suffered,  had  given  a  shock  to  my  nerves,  and  deepened 
my  native  tendency  to  melancholy.  This,  for  years,  re- 
quired indomitable  resolution  on  my  part  to  resist. 

I  still  loved  Constantinople,  but  it  was  a  relief  at  that 
time  to  find  myself  with  my  mother  and  surviving  brother 
and  sister  on  board  the  French  steamer  Osiris  bound  for 
Marseilles,  and  a  new  home  in  the  West.  I  think  my 
mother  was  the  first  American  missionary  to  take  passage 
to  America  from  Turkey,  by  steamer,  although  few,  if 
any,  have  since  preferred  the  slow  sailing  ship.  The 
lovely  scenery  en  route  and  the  romantic  castles  beheld  in 
our  passage  across  France,  with  stops  at  Avignon,  Lyons, 
and  other  cities  en  route  to  Paris,  were  very  enjoyable 
and  highly  educational.  Although  too  3'oung  to  appre- 
ciate all  that  I  saw%  still  the  hours  spent  at  Notre  Dame 
and  Versailles,  and  in  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  the 
Luxembourg  and  the  Salon,  made  useful  impressions.  I 
was  especially  taken  by  the  examples  of  the  Dutch  School, 
and  I  remember  with  satisfaction  that  Da  Vinci's  im- 
mortal  "Mona  Lisa"   appealed   especially   to   my   artistic 

135 


sense,  and  has  led  me  to  cherish  the  genius  of  that  artist 
with  a  permanent  veneration. 

We  reached  New  York  in  June,  and  soon  after  I  pre- 
sented myself  for  admission  to  Williams  College.  In  the 
matter  of  the  classics  and  general  knowledge  I  was 
promptly  pronounced  fitted  for  admission ;  but  I  was 
weak  in  mathematics  and  was  advised  to  give  it  serious 
attention  during  the  summer  vacation.  I  had  expected 
this.  But  it  was  unfortunate  that  my  tutor  was  the  best 
mathematician  in  the  graduating  class,  to  whom  that  sub- 
ject came  so  naturally  that  he  could  not  see  how  one 
could  fail  to  understand  a  problem  almost  at  sight,  and 
he  found  it  hard  to  lower  his  explanations  to  my  dull 
mathematical  perceptions.  Hence  I  entered  college  quali- 
fied to  acquit  myself  creditably  in  some  branches  and  un- 
fitted by  mental  constitution  and  training  for  others,  and 
therefore  unable  to  hope  for  the  symmetrical  average  of 
academic  acquirement  taught  and  expected  in  the  Ameri- 
can college  of  that  period,  and  in  many  at  this  time.  My 
experience  and  training  had  been  of  such  exceptional  char- 
acter that  what  I  needed  was  a  course  of  preparation  and 
intellectual  effort  altogether  different  than  that  of  the 
four  years  now  before  me  at  Williams.  I  realized  this  to 
a  certain  degree.  But  having  once  resolved  to  carry  out 
the  wishes  of  my  dear  father,  I  had  abandoned  all  idea 
of  painting,  and  an  academic  course  followed  by  some  liter- 
ary avocation  seemed  to  be  my  destiny.  Ceteris  paribus. 
it  is  also  of  value,  even  if  one  does  not  shine  in  his 
classes,  to  have  the  four  years  of  fun,  discipline,  or  demo- 
cratic intercourse  with  other  minds,  such  as  one  can 
hardly  gather  in  any  other  way  than  by  the  college  course. 
Therefore,  although  my  college  life  was   of  far  less   im- 


136 


portance  to  me  than  it  is  to  some,  yet  I  would  not  lose 
for  anything  some  of  my  recollections  at  Williams.  The 
textbooks  did  me  little  good,  but  the  general  experience 
was  invaluable.  Mr.  William  D.  Howells  once  said  to  me 
that  one  regret  of  his  life  was  that  he  had  never  been 
through  college.  Not,  he  was  quick  to  add,  because  it 
would  have  enabled  him  to  write  any  better,  but  because 
every  college  graduate,  however  obscure,  had  the  advan- 
tage of  him  in  the  possession  of  a  fund  of  experience  en- 
tirely special  and  delightful,  to  be  acquired  in  no  other 
way,  and  which  made  collegians  a  class  by  themselves. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  first  meeting  of  the  class 
of  '59,  summoned  after  our  initial  recitations,  to  compare 
notes,  "size  each  other  up,"  lay  the  foundations  of  an 
esprit  du  corps,  and  suggest  the  lines  on  which  we  were  to 
maintain  class  prestige  against  all,  and  especially  against 
our  natural  enemies  the  sophomores.  The  occasion  was 
one  of  unusual  interest  to  me,  because  it  illustrated  to  a 
remarkable  degree  the  fact  that  there  is  no  place  where  a 
man  finds  his  level  so  surely  as  in  college.  The  oft  quoted 
adage  tliat  one  is  taken  at  his  own  estimate,  that  is,  if  he 
holds  his  head  high  the  world  more  readily  accords  him 
credit,  is  only  measurably  true,  like  many  other  popular 
maxims.  It  holds  good  only  until  the  world  has  had  op- 
portunity to  discover  whether  one's  self  valuation  and 
bearing,  are  borne  out  by  actual  merit,  whether  of  brains, 
money  or  station.  A  college  is  a  microcosm  whose  mem- 
bers are  sufficiently  mature  to  exercise,  but  with  less  re- 
sponsibility, the  passions,  ambitions,  shrewdness,  mean- 
ness, malice,  duplicity  or  nobility  of  men  in  the  larger 
world  outside.  It  is  perhaps  because  of  his  youth  and 
that  the  comedy  of  college  life  is  limited   to   four  short 


137 


years,  that  the  young  collegian  more  quickly  reveals  his 
nature  and  ambitions,  and  for  that  reason  is  more  quickly 
diagnosed  and  placed  at  his  true  level. 

I  observed  the  proceedings  of  our  first  class  meeting 
therefore,  with  great  interest  and  curiosity.  The  situa- 
tion was  entirely  novel  to  me  because  I  had  studied  chiefly 
with  tutors  rather  than  in  preparatory  schools,  and  was 
also  quite  unfamiliar  with  deliberate  assemblies  to  which 
every  American  youth  early  becomes  accustomed.  Being 
diffident,  it  is  likewise  my  habit,  a  habit  I  have  carried 
through  life,  to  say  but  little  or  at  least  to  be  cautious 
and  non-committal,  when  with  those  of  whose  character  or 
mental  calibre  I  was  ignorant.  Allowing  them  the  initia- 
tive, I  would,  as  it  were,  draw  their  fire  and  ascertain  our 
relative  strength.  Having  measured  this  I  could  then 
either  continue  reserved,  or  could  launch  out  in  direc- 
tions in  which  I  felt  myself  to  be  equal  or  superior.  In  the 
present  instance  I  also  perceived  instinctively  that  my 
position  was  especially  anomalous,  suggesting  unusual 
caution  on  my  part. 

J\Iy  classmates  had  far  more  textbook  drilling  than  I, 
and  a  better  knowledge  of  how  things  were  done  and  what 
opinions  were  popular  in  America.  On  the  other  hand 
my  general  information  was  far  greater  than  theirs,  my 
reading  was  larger  and  broader,  and  my  mind  was  less 
interested  in  what  was  local  and  concerned  our  immediate 
environment,  than  in  what  concerned  foreign  questions  and 
the  world  at  large.  My  tastes  were  more  catholic,  covered 
a  wider  range.  But  I  knew  enough  of  human  nature  to  be 
aware  that  to  intrude  my  own  tastes  or  wider  information 
at  that  time  would  simply  cause  me  to  be  misunderstood, 
and  my  only  course  was  to  maintain  silence,  doing  what- 


1-68 


ever  I  had  to  Jo  as  well  as  possible,  and  leaving  results 
to  take  care  of  themselves.  This  resolution  cost  me  very 
little,  for  I  was  not  then  and  never  have  been  much 
bothered  by  ambition.  What  I  have  really  desired  has 
been  to  follow  my  tastes  unmolested,  unhindered,  whether 
for  the  sea,  for  art,  literature,  or  sport.  If  anything 
came  of  it,  all  right;  if  not,  at  least  I  had  the  personal 
satisfaction  as  I  went  along.  The  honors  of  life  have 
from  the  first,  seemed  to  me  too  uncertain,  too  evanescent, 
to  be  made  an  end,  and  to  money  I  was  indifferent,  except 
as  it  became  necessary  as  a  means  to  an  end.  For  these 
reasons  I  can  honestly  say  that  I  have  never  been  jealous 
of  others  who,  without  more  ability  perhaps,  but  with 
greater  energy  and  ambition,  have  outstripped  me  in 
the  race  for  wealth,  influence  and  fame. 

As  matters  turned  out,  my  freshman  year  proved  more 
eventful  for  me  than  I  had  any  reason  to  expect.  It  was 
doubtless  due.  to  extreme  verdancy  that  I  had  the  presump- 
tion to  aspire  to  become  a  contributor  to  the  Williams 
Quarterly.  This  was  a  serious,  slightly  heavy,  but  dignified 
magazine,  one  of  the  first  college  periodicals  as  it  also 
continued  to  be  one  of  the  best  until  smothered  in  later 
years  by  more  pretentious,  ephemeral,  and  "up-to-date" 
rivals.  The  Quarterly  was  essentially  an  organ  of  the 
upper  classes,  and  was  conducted  by  five  editors  selected 
annually  from  the  senior  class.  One  of  them  was  supposed 
to  manage  the  business  end  as  publislier,  while  the  others 
edited  in  turn  one  of  the  four  quarterly  numbers.  Two  of 
the  editors  in  my  freshman  year  were  John  J.  Ingalls  and 
James  A.  Garfield.  The  former  became  a  distinguished 
member  of  the  United  States  Senate,  and  the  latter  reached 
the  White  House.     They  roomed  together.     Of  course  I 


139 


was  not  at  that  time  in  the  secret  of  the  greatness  that 
destiny  had  in  store  for  them,  but  at  any  rate  they  were 
seniors  and  ranked  among  the  leaders  of  intellectual 
ability  in  college;  this  was  enough  to  suggest  great  pru- 
dence and  circumspection  on  the  part  of  a  freshman  in 
approaching  them.  It  was  therefore  with  some  trepida- 
tion, that,  without  breathing  a  word  to  anyone  of  my 
daring  purpose,  and  actually  in  my  first  term  freshman 
year,  I  knocked  one  morning  at  the  sanctum  of  the  above 
mentioned  grave  and  august  seniors.  Garfield  opened  the 
door.  He  was  putting  on  a  clean  shirt  and  Ingalls  was 
shaving  himself  before  the  glass.  Garfield,  considering 
his  powerful  physique  and  senioral  rank,  was  affable,  and 
good  naturedly  invited  me  to  enter,  while  Ingalls  contented 
himself  with  a  cynical  glance  of  scorn  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye  such  as  he  employed  with  such  withering  force 
on  his  political  foes,  in  later  years.  I  modestly  declined 
the  invitation,  apologized  for  intruding  at  such  an  hour, 
and  placed  in  Garfield's  hand  a  poem  which  I  desired  to 
submit  for  admission  to  the  Williams  Quarterly.  Gar- 
field took  it  politely  without  the  common  editorial  observa- 
tion that  "they  were  just  then  overcrowded  with  matter, 
and  said  this  without  prejudice  to  the  merits  of  the  ar- 
ticle," and  replied  that  he  would  carefully  read  my  manu- 
script. There  was,  however,  a  quizzical,  half  humorous 
look  in  his  eye,  as  of  wonder  at  the  assurance  of  a  fresh- 
man who  so  early  ventured  to  invite  inevitable  rejection. 
I  thought  no  more  of  the  matter,  however,  until  the  issue 
of  the  next  number  of  the  Quarterly.  To  my  surprise,  the 
entire  piece,  a  poem  of  some  200  lines  in  blank  verse,  the 
scene  on  the  Bosphorous,  was  published,  and  I  found 
myself    achieving    an    altogether    unexpected    prominence 


140 


in  the  college.  A  review  of  the  poem  was  read  at  a 
meeting  of  the  Philotechnian  Society,  and  during  the  rest 
of  the  course  I  think  not  a  number  of  the  Quarterly  ap- 
peared without  one  of  my  contributions. 

Garfield,  as  is  well  known,  entered  college  late  and  was 
about  twenty-seven  when  he  graduated.  He  wore  a 
full  brown  beard,  and  not  only  looked  but  actually  was, 
more  mature  than  most  of  his  fellow  collegians.  This  fact 
alone,  however,  would  not  have  sufficed  to  give  him  the 
prominence  he  held  while  an  undergraduate.  His  talents 
and  force  of  character  made  him  easily  a  leader,  whatever 
his  age.  If  he  lacked  at  the  outset,  some  of  the  educational 
advantages  of  his  classmates,  which  some  consider  essen- 
tial, on  the  other  hand  his  contact  with  exceptional  phases 
of  life,  had  given  him  a  power  which  told  when,  he  applied 
himself  to  his  collegiate  course.  It  is  experience  and  ob- 
servation no  less  than  books  that  educate  and  rounrl  out 
the  mind.  Much  stress  has  been  laid  on  Garfield's  unusual 
scholarship.  It  was  unusual,  perhaps,  to  see  an  American 
engaged  in  the  political  arena  possessing  much  scholar- 
ship for  if  our  public  men  begin,  with  some  smattering 
of  the  classics  and  elegant  literature,  it  is  generally  pretty 
well  rubbed  off  in  the  rough-and-tumble  scramble  by  which 
they  reach  congress  or  the  White  House.  Garfield  un- 
doubtedly had  a  natural  taste  for  such  studies,  but  I 
question  whether  he  was  entitled  to  be  considered  a  scholar, 
except  by  comparison  with  most  of  his  political  colleagues. 
He  simply  did  not  have  time  either  in  war  or  in  politics, 
to  carry  his  studies  very  far;  and  certainly  the  course  at 
Williams  in  those  days  was  not  qualified  to  make  great 
scholars,  except  in  mental  science.  Garfield's  reputation 
and  influence  in  college,  so  far  as  I  remember,  were  chiefly 


141 


clue  to  other  forms  of  ability  more  in  line  with  the  suc- 
cesses of  his  career  in  after  years.  Garfield  was  a  clear 
and  forcible  rather  than  an  elegant  writer  of  prose  and 
verse,  he  had  a  logical  mind,  a  powerful  way  of  present- 
ing an  argument  to  an  audience,  and  remarkable  quickness 
of  repartee,  humor,  and  sarcasm  in  debate.  His  massive 
figure,  commanding,  self-confident  manner,  and  magnifi- 
cent bursts  of  fiery  eloquence,  won  and  held  the  attention 
of  his  audience  from  the  moment  he  opened  his  lips.  All 
these  qualities  were  in  their  prime  during  his  senior  year, 
and  I  question  whether  he  was  ever  more  eloquent  or  con- 
vincing in  congress  than  he  appeared  on  the  college  forum, 
with  the  faculty  of  one  of  the  most  critical  audiences  in 
America  to  laugh  and  applaud.  He  was  undoubtedly  one 
of  the  greatest  natural  debaters  ever  seen  at  Williams 
College.  When  it  was  announced  that  Garfield  was  to  speak 
collegians  and  townsfolk  all  crowded  to  hear  him.  No 
one  enjoyed  listening  to  him  more  than  dear  old  Prex 
Mark  Hopkins,  who,  of  course,  sat  on  the  platform  in  full 
view  of  the  audience,  his  Ciceronian  profile  clearly  out- 
lined against  the  background.  He  would  sit  there  doubled 
up  in  his  armchair  with  his  long  thin  legs  twisted  into  a 
knot,  and  would  almost  go  into  convulsions  of  laughter. 

Garfield  had  a  hearty,  hale-fellow-well-met  manner,  ap- 
parently the  outspoken  good  nature  of  an  honest,  genial, 
democratic  heart,  which  led  many,  when  he  was  in  public 
life,  to  consider  him  insincere,  but  my  impression  is,  that 
there  was  originally  no  guile  in  the  "gush"  as  it  was 
called,  which  made  him  enemies  at  the  height  of  his  career 
because  of  the  fact  that  his  acts  did  not  always  tally  with 
his  professions.  It  was  the  natural  manner  of  a  person 
who  was  good  natured  but  not  very  deep.     The  habit  of 


142 


promising  favors  clung  to  him  when  he  was  in  affairs,  and 
when  it  would  have  been  the  truer  policy  to  himself  and 
to  others,  to  hold  himself  with  more  reserve.  Perhaps  he 
did  not  have  the  talent  so  important  in  social  and  especi- 
ally public  life,  of  being  reserved  in  the  spoken  expression 
of  his  Ideas,  and  yet  affable  in  manner.  Blaine  had  this 
gift,  and  thus  won  full  as  many  friends  as  he  merited. 
Benjamin  Harrison  lacked  it,  and  thus  lost  half  that  he 
made,  or  might  have  had,  and  also  his  reelection.  Garfield, 
from  conviction  or  policy,  belonged  to  the  anti-secret  as- 
sociation at  Williams,  which  was  pledged  to  fight  and,  if 
possible,  demolish  secret  societies.  While  Garfield  was  at 
Williams  the  anti-secrets  formed  a  powerful  body,  but 
eventually  the  organization  lost  spirit  and  disappeared. 
He  was  also  a  Campbellite  preacher  at  that  time  and  on 
Sundays  earned  a  few  honest  dollars  to  pay  his  weekday 
expenses.  I  fancy  that  as  Garfield  gained  scope  in  war  and 
politics  his  interest  in  the  pulpit  declined.  When  ho  was 
elected  President  I  resolved  that  at  least  one  of  his  friends 
should  not  use  the  acquaintance  as  a  lever  to  office  and  I 
asked  nothing  from  him.  I  wrote  him  a  congratulatory 
note  to  which  he  very  cordially  replied  in  a  holographic 
letter.  Considering  how  busy  he  must  have  been  at  that 
time,  and  that  he  had  nothing  to  gain  from  me,  this  cer- 
tainly looked  as  if  he  had  more  sincerity  of  feeling  than 
his  enemies  allowed  him.  jNIy  personal  recollections  of 
him  are  wholly  favorable. 

Toward  the  close  of  freshman  year  I  ventured  to  send 
a  short  poem  to  the  Independent,  at  that  time  one  of 
the  great  powers  of  the  northern  press — entitled  the 
"Arctic  Ocean."  It  was  accepted  and  published  over  my 
initials,  and  was  copied  by  LitteU's  Magazine  and  other 

143 

10 


periodicals.  During  the  year  I  gradually  found  my  affini- 
ties in  college,  arrived  at  certain  opinions  on  various  ques- 
tions in  and  out  of  the  institution,  some  of  which  I  have 
seen  no  occasion  to  revise,  and  gained  fuller  courage  to 
give  expression  to  my  convictions.  I  held  a  respectable 
rank  in  Greek  and  Latin ;  and  gave  our  excellent,  en- 
thusiastic Latin  professor,  Lincoln,  great  and  unexpected 
pleasure  by  preparing  metrical  versions  in  English  of 
some  of  Horace's  odes.  Unfortunately  I  have  lost  every 
copy  of  these  translations  in  moving  about,  and  therefore 
have  no  present  means  of  knowing  what  was  their  actual 
merit. 

But  in  mathematics  my  standing  was  simply  deplorable. 
The  professor,  to  save  his  conscience  and  my  feelings, 
called  me  up  to  recite  as  rarely  as  possible,  and  then  T 
usually  "flunked." 

The  amount  of  it  all  was  that  my  mind  was  not  so  much 
averse  to  mathematics  as  that  it  reached  conclusions  and 
solved  problems  by  methods  other  than  those  laid  down  in 
the  books.  As  occasion  has  required,  since  leaving  college, 
I  have  solved  problems  I  could  not  successfully  tackle 
there  by  the  textbooks.  There  was  a  radical  difficulty 
in  my  mental  make  up,  which  hindered  progress  in  mathe- 
matics as  taught.  The  student  in  that  field  must  take 
much  on  faith,  accepting  fonnulas,  axioms  and  processes 
without  question,  and  proceed  as  if  he  understood  them 
whether  he  does  or  not. 

At  this  crisis,  a  happy  avenue  of  escape  offered  itself, 
which  I  received  with  rejoicing.  The  year  before,  a  student 
had  been  admitted  to  college  on  a  tentative  basis  which 
has  been  quite  common  since,  termed  the  "university 
course."     It  was  an  experiment  not  regarded  favorably 


144 


by  the  faculty  as  it  might  prove  an  entering  wedge  for 
subverting  the  procrustean  system  of  the  American  col- 
lege of  the  period.  The  university  student  was  required 
to  choose  two  of  the  current  studies  and  attend  the  reci- 
tations in  them,  it  being  implied  that  the  course  fur- 
nished studies  which  he  could  pursue  congenially.  His  con- 
tinuance depended,  however,  on  his  standing  in  the  studies 
he  selected;  and  for  these  privileges  he  was  obliged  to 
abandon  all  claim  to  college  honors  and  degrees.  No 
sooner  was  this  expedient  suggested  to  me,  than  I  ac- 
cepted it  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  I  cared  nothing 
for  the  college  honors,  and  never  dreamed  of  aspiring  to 
them.  I  was  in  college  to  please  my  parents  and  to  fit 
myself  for  the  inevitable  struggle  beyond.  I  felt  that 
at  last  I  was  relieved  from  a  crushing  burden.  I  had 
given  much  useless  time  and  some  health  to  the  mortifying 
study  of  mathematics  in  my  freshman  year,  which  had 
placed  me  in  a  false  position  and  prevented  me  from  doing 
justice  to  myself  and  my  aims.  I  had,  in  a  word,  been 
chewing  a  file  instead  of  meat.  Now,  at  last,  I  was 
comparatively  free  again,  and  I  entered  my  sophomore 
year  with  a  sense  of  relief  such  as  I  have  rarely  experi- 
enced. 

And  yet,  when  I  consider  the  conditions  of  life  at  Wil- 
liams College  in  tliose  days  I  rather  wonder  what  it  was 
that  kept  me  there  at  all.  For  one  who  went  there  as  I 
did  from  a  genial  climate,  the  picturesque  and  romantic 
scenery  and  life  in  the  Levant,  the  contrast  was  harsh 
and  repelling.  But  as  it  is  my  nature  to  carry  to  a  con- 
clusion whatever  I  undertake,  I  kept  to  my  original  resolu- 
tion in  favor  of  the  collegiate  period  to  the  end. 


145 


For  various  reasons,  doubtless  the  result  of  applied 
civilization,  the  Berkshire  climate  appears  to  have  grown 
more  agreeable  of  late  years,  and  the  college  discipline 
and  regulations  have  kept  pace  with  nature's  increasing 
amiability.  The  sons  of  the  wealthy  have  also  invaded  the 
institution  in  large  numbers,  often  sons  of  graduates, 
bringing  with  them  the  manifold  luxuries  of  the  age ;  the 
college  endowments  have  likewise  greatly  enlarged,  and  the 
town  has  financially  become  a  fashionable  resort  for 
permanent  or  opulent  sunnner  residents.  The  general  tone 
of  the  place  has,  in  fact,  become  so  wonderfully  modified 
that  any  description  of  Williams  College,  when  I  was  a 
sophomore,  is  sufficiently  historical  to  require  no  justi- 
fying plea. 

The  students  and  villagers  worshipped  together  on  the 
Sabbath  in  the  Congregational  Church  on  the  hill,  which 
was  also  the  site  of  old  Fort  Massachusetts.  The  students 
occupied  the  gallery.  The  spire  of  this  building  was  razed 
to  save  repairs,  and  eventually  the  entire  structure  was 
levelled  as  it  did  not  harmonize  with  the  contemplated 
village  improvements.  It  was  a  barn-like  structure  painted 
white,  with  green  blinds.  But  it  was  rich  with  the  asso- 
ciations of  many  commencements  and  college  entertain- 
ments, including  many  incipient  flirtations,  and  from  its 
plain  pulpit  had  been  delivered  some  of  the  greatest  ser- 
mons by  the  greatest  preachers  ever  heard  in  the  United 
States.  It  was  a  mistake  to  tear  down  that  old  temple.  It 
should  have  been  remodeled  and  preserved  on  that  com- 
manding site  where  everyone  as  he  entered  the  town  could 
see  at  once  the  structure  which  suggested  the  mental  and 
moral  grandeur  on  which  the  greatness  of  New  England 
was  founded.     The  college  day  began  with  prayers  at  six 


146 


o'clock  summer  and  winter.  This  meant  that  we  often 
had  to  fight  our  way  in  the  face  of  a  driving  snow  storm 
before  daylight,  leaping  from  a  warm  bed  to  throw  on  a 
few  hurried  clothes,  some  even  going  unwashed  and  un- 
combed, and  still  in  night  shirts  under  their  shawls  or 
overcoats,  facing  dense,  stinging  clouds  of  driving  sleet 
and  snow  or  burying  themselves  in  great  drifts  in  their 
efforts  to  reach  the  chapel  ere  the  doors  were  shut,  the 
doleful  peal  of  the  bell  the  while  rising  and  falling  on  the 
howling  blast.  The  chapel  was  bitter  cold,  but  even  thus, 
some  under  their  shawls  stole  a  glance  at  their  textbooks, 
as  "Prof.  Al"  or  "Prof.  Perry"  offered  prayers  to  which 
the  response  could  only  have  been  perfunctory  under  the 
circumstances.  From  prayers  the  three  lower  classes 
proceeded  directly  to  recitation  in  rooms  some  distance 
from  chapel.  Our  room  was  on  the  ground  fioor.  Most 
likely  we  found  the  member  of  the  class  who  for  a  pittance 
took  care  of  it  trying  to  make  the  feeble,  ill-smelling 
whale  oil  lights  give  out  a  pale  gleam,  or  blowing  the  fire 
in  the  box  stove  into  a  smoky  flame.  Perhaps  the  room  was 
already  half  full  of  smoke,  which  obliged  us  to  open  the 
door,  when  the  wind  and  snow  whirled  in  and  made  it  pleas- 
ant for  those  who  sat  near  it.  We  had  to  sit  out  the  recita- 
tion for  a  full  hour  with  empty  stomachs  and  closely 
crowded  on  a  hard,  narrow  bench  that  ran  around  three 
sides  of  the  room  against  the  wall.  Those  who  sat  near  the 
stove  if  the  fire  became  fairly  ignited,  roasted  their  faces 
and  chilled  their  backs.  Those  who  sat  farther  away, 
froze  both  their  faces  and  their  backs.  The  recitation 
was  continuously  interrupted  by  sneezing  and  coughing. 
That  was  before  the  days  when  people  had  become  so 
tender   that   they    turned   pale   at   the   woi'ds    microbe    or 


147 


bacteria.  After  recitation  we  were  graciously  permitted 
to  go  to  breakfast. 

The  condition  of  the  dormitories  was  about  on  a  par 
with  the  classrooms.  They  were  heated  by  box  stoves, 
the  fuel  being  wood.  With  this  feature  of  the  heating 
there  could  be  little  complaint,  for  there  is  something 
rarely  cheering  in  the  roar  of  blazing  wood  compared  with 
the  sullen  warmth  of  coal.  Those  of  the  students  who 
could  afford  it  had  their  beds  made  and  rooms  swept  by 
a  tall,  lank,  withered  old  janitor  named  Cox,  usually 
dubbed  the  Professor  of  Dust  and  Ashes,  but  many  took 
entire  charge  of  their  own  rooms,  and  the  hour  after 
breakfast  was  devoted  by  them  to  sweeping,  bed  making, 
bringing  in  wood  and  kindling  the  fire,  lucky  if  they  did 
not  have  to  chop  and  saw  their  own  wood. 

There  is  no  question,  however,  that  we  contrived 
to  extract  considerable  entertainment  out  of  our  college 
life.  But  after  these  long  intervening  years  the  impres- 
sion resting  in  my  memory  is  that  the  first  half  of  my  col- 
lege days  was  depressing.  This  may  have  been  partly 
due  to  the  state  of  my  own  mind  at  the  time.  But  it  was 
also  due  to  the  fact  that  Ave  were  oppressed  by  a  Puritan- 
ism of  the  densest  character.  I  blame  no  one  for  this.  Men 
for  the  most  part  act  or  believe  as  they  are  educated  by 
precept  or  environment.  If  the  Faculty  had  not  believed 
what  they  sought  to  enforce  by  constant  pressure  and 
influence  they  could  not  at  that  period  have  been  elected 
to  chairs  at  Williams. 

To  be  obliged  to  attend  prayers  twice  a  day  on  pain 
of  serious  penalties  at  a  time  when  my  character  was  prac- 
tically formed,  I  resented.  To  be  forced  to  appear  at 
two  long  services   in   a   cold   church   on   Sunday  without 


148 


liberty  to  select  my  own  place  of  worship  or  be  expelled, 
seemed  to  me  an  outrage.  I  was  a  man  and  no  longer  a 
boy.  I  felt  this  duress  the  more  keenly  because  of  the 
sombre,  tremendous,  denunciatory  character  of  much  of 
the  preaching  to  which  we  must  listen.  But  a  large  pro- 
portion of  it,  I  must  admit,  was  of  a  high  order  of  elo- 
quence and  logic.  Of  course  when  Dr.  Hopkins  preached 
few  of  us  desired  to  stay  away.  Even  when  we  could 
not  accept  his  terms  we  listened  to  the  march  of  his 
logical  periods  and  the  peal  of  his  magnificent  eloquence 
as  to  a  matchless  intellectual  feast.  Others  of  the  faculty 
were  likewise  good  sermonizers.  But  the  universal  tone 
of  the  preaching  to  which  we  were  forced  to  listen  in 
term  time  was  on  the  whole  damnatory,  slightly  qualified 
according  to  the  disposition  of  the  speaker,  and  the  bot- 
tomless pit  was  ever  yawning  before  us.  The  Saviour's 
love  w^as  sometimes  mentioned,  but  what  did  that  avail 
by  contrast  with  the  denunciation  of  such  paintings  of 
Pandemonium  .P  I  could  never  quite  understand  what  I 
had  done  up  to  that  time,  that  was  so  unspeakably  crim- 
inal, and  deserved  such  fierce  condemnation  and  penalty ; 
and  if  I  had  already  become  so  wicked,  wherein  lay  the 
goodness  or  justice  of  a  Creator  who  would  bring  me  into 
the  world  to  become  a  candidate  for  eternal  suffering  and 
perdition  before  I  had  barely  reached  mature  years  ?  This 
thought  produced  an  unwholesome  spirit  of  defiance,  but 
the  pressure  brought  to  bear  on  all  of  us  was  tremendous, 
and  the  solemnity  that  pervaded  the  entire  community, 
funereal. 

One  of  my  classmates,  who  was  reputed  to  be  a  member 
of  the  rapid  set,  "came  under  conviction,"  as  the  phrase 
goes,  at  one  of  the  revival  meetings.     On  returning  to  his 


149 


room,  overcome  by  a  spasm  of  virtue  and  piety,  he  snatched 
up  his  box  of  tobacco  and  flung  it  with  disgust   into  a 

corner,    exclaiming,    "Let    the    d d    thing    lie    there!" 

After  the  first  impulse  was  over,  I  believe  he  resumed 
smoking. 

Sophomore  year  was  marked  by  yet  more  strenuous 
religious  effort  than  my  freshman  year.  But  my  spirits 
were  rather  less  affected  by  it ;  partly  because  my  course 
of  study  was  more  congenial,  and  partly  because  certain 
elements  had  come  into  my  life  which  divided  my  attention. 
One  of  these  was  the  entrance  into  the  Kappa  Alpha 
secret  society  which  brought  me  into  contact  with  some 
of  the  best  men  in  college  on  such  terms  of  social  equality 
as  to  prove  highly  beneficial  to  me,  as  many  of  them 
were,  of  course,  in  advance  classes,  and  their  experience 
was  of  great  service.  Some  of  the  most  enduring  friend- 
ships of  my  life  were  formed  in  this  admirable  association, 
and  I  look  back  with  unqualified  pleasure  and  gratitude 
to  the  advantages  I  enjoyed  while  an  active  member  of  the 
Kappa  Alpha  chapter  at  Williams. 

It  was  during  the  first  sophomore  term  that  an  amusing 
incident  occurred.  There  were  several  of  the  class,  as 
there  are  in  every  class,  who  stood  not  in  awe  of  serious 
things  and  found  a  more  or  less  rational  diversion  in  the 
gentle  art  of  hazing.  It  is  unnecessary  to  record  in  this 
place  that  various  efforts  in  this  direction,  which  vexed 
the  faculty  cheered  even  the  serious  students,  and  gave  a 
temporary  notoriety  to  the  chief  actors  in  this  phase  of  the 
college  drama. 

One  incident  I  remember  seems  worthy  of  being  rescued 
from  oblivion.  One  evening  while  three  of  these  worthies 
were  devoting  their  energies  to  making  one  of  their  class- 


150 


mates  particular!}'  miserable  in  his  room,  which  was  in 
a  private  house,  a  scout  reported  to  the  faculty,  who  were 
at  this  time  especially  on  the  watch  to  catch  the  hazers 
in  flagi'ante  delicto,  were  close  at  hand.  The  hazers  did  not 
tarry  on  the  order  of  their  going,  but  hastened  to  leap 
from  the  second  story  window  to  the  ground  just  as  the 
advance  files  of  the  faculty  burst  in  the  door.  One  of 
the  fugitives  unfortunately  left  his  large  silk  hat  behind 
him.  The  well  known  character  of  one  of  the  hazers,  the 
fact  that  he  was  the  largest  man  in  college,  and  one  of 
the  very  few  students  who  wore  such  a  hat,  naturally 
suggested  that  W.  was  the  owner  of  this  especial  hat. 
He  was  therefore  summoned  to  appear  before  Professor 
Tatlock,  the  executive  of  the  sophomore  class.  After  put- 
ting various  questions  which  were  skillfully  parried,  the 
professor  took  the  hat  from  under  his  chair,  and  said, 
"W.,  try  on  this  hat."  It  fitted  exactly.  This  was  ap- 
parently proof  positive,  and  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  more 
remained  to  be  said,  when  W.  unexpectedly  turned  the 
tables  by  saying,  "Professor,  will  you  try  on  the  hat.'"' 
Professor  Tatlock  was  so  dumbfounded  that,  without 
thinking,  he  also  tried  on  the  hat,  and  it  fitted  him  literally 
to  a  hair.  This  stroke  of  wit  was  so  effective  that  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  allow  W.  to  go  free  with  a 
warning.  This  incident  has  repeatedly  gone  the  round 
of  the  press  in  recent  years  as  having  occured  at  this  or 
that  college.  It  actually  occurred  at  Williams  College  in 
my  sophomore  year. 

During  my  first  sophomore  term  the  editors  of  the 
Williams  Quarterly,  actuated  by  a  commendable  desire  to 
stimulate  literary  activity  among  the  students,  offered  a 
small  money  prize  for  the  best  prose  essay   of  a   given 


151 


length.  The  successful  essay  was  also  to  be  published  in 
the  Quarterly.  The  Professor  of  Literature  was  the 
chairman  of  the  deciding  committee,  and  the  competition 
was  open  to  every  class.  I  sent  in  a  paper,  and  gave  the 
matter  no  further  thought  until  I  saw  my  good  friend 
and  classmate  Walter  de  Forest  Day  coming  toward  me 
one  afternoon  waving  his  hat  in  the  air.  When  he  came 
up  to  me  he  seized  my  hand  and  warmly  congratulated 
me  for  winning  the  prize.  I  confess  that  I  was  greatly 
surprised  myself,  for  there  were  some  vigorous  writers 
and  thinkers  in  college,  and  I  hardly  supposed  that  a 
sophomore  in  the  first  term  could  win  over  the  heads  of 
juniors  and  seniors.  The  essay  was  crude  in  thought  and 
decidedly  sophomoric  in  style,  but  in  common  with  other 
articles  I  wrote  in  college,  it  had  an  affluent  flow  of  lan- 
guage and  the  warmth  of  sincere  unaffected  enthusiasm 
which  came  from  the  heart. 


152 


CHAPTER    VI. 

COLLEGE  VACATIONS.     RALPH  WALDO  EMER- 
SON AND  DR.  HOPKINS. 

My  college  vacations  were  partly  spent  at  my  maternal 
grandfather's  place  at  Concord,  Massachusetts,  whither 
he  passed  the  summers  after  leaving  Trenton.  He  was 
descended  from  the  Wheelers  who,  I  have  been  told,  re- 
ceived two  centuries  and  a  half  ago  a  grant  from  the 
Crown  of  the  tract  now  covered  by  the  town  of  Concord. 

My  grandfather,  moved  by  these  traditions,  was  led  to 
purchase  an  old  place  for  a  summer  residence  from  one 
of  the  Wheelers  still  resident  in  Concord.  The  Concord 
River  ran  through  the  grounds  at  a  point  where  it  was 
crossed  by  a  venerable  stone  bridge  with  three  arches,  that 
was  noted  in  the  early  history  of  the  Revolution.  Be- 
coming impaired  by  age  and  weather,  it  has  in  late  years 
been  replaced  by  a  modern  structure.  Happily  I  made 
a  careful  drawing  of  the  old  bridge  during  one  of  my 
visits  to  Concord.  The  mansion  stood  on  rising  ground 
at  the  top  of  a  lawn  that  sloped  to  the  River.  It  was  a 
rambling  but  not  inelegant  structure  erected  in  colonial 
times,  and  had  an  added  and  appreciable  value  because 
it  was  occupied  by  Harvard  College  during  the  period 
when    the    hostilities    between    the    old    country    and    the 


153 


colonies  obliged  the  temporary  removal  of  that  institution. 
There  was  a  good  library  of  standard  literature  in  the 
house,  and  it  was  one  of  my  favorite  habits  when  at 
Concord  to  read  in  bed  an  hour  before  rising  in  the  morn- 
ing. Through  the  open  windows  I  heard  the  haymakers 
whetting  their  scythes  and  the  lowing  of  the  cattle,  and 
breathed  in  the  fragrance  of  tedded  hay  and  honeysuckles. 
How  long  ago  seem  those  magical  days  of  my  youth ! 
Sometimes  I  took  a  gallop  over  the  good  roads  of  old  Con- 
cord, or  let  the  horse  saunter  at  will  by  Walden  Pond  and 
Thoreau's  Cabin  in  the  woods,  or  by  the  old  Manse  im- 
mortalized by  Hawthorne.  He  was  not  there  at  that 
time,  I  think,  at  least  I  never  saw  him.  But  I  met  Emer- 
son repeatedly.  My  uncle,  who  was  a  man  of  fine  culture 
and  literary  tastes,  a  valedictorian  at  Williams  at  seven- 
teen, and  a  clear  headed  lawyer,  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  sage  of  Concord,  and  they  sometimes  walked  together 
toward  evening.  But  I  was  then  too  young  or  too  im- 
mature fully  to  appreciate  the  calibre  of  the  tall,  slender, 
serious,  homely  but  kindly  faced  philosopher  who  did  so 
much  to  give  character  and  fame  to  our  national  litera- 
ture. I  met  Mr.  Emerson  years  later,  on  the  occasion 
of  my  being  invited  to  read  a  paper  before  the  Literary 
Club  of  Concord.  He  was  present  and  sat  near  to  me. 
When  I  had  finished  my  reading,  he  put  a  number  of  ques- 
tions, and  a  pleasant  conversation  ensued,  apropos  of  the 
subject  of  the  lecture.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation, 
Mr,  Emerson  said,  "I  think  that  American  authors  are 
more  modest  or  reticent  in  speaking  of  themselves  and 
their  work  than  European  authors.  I  remember  a  curious 
example  of  this  fact  that  happened  when  I  was  abroad. 
At  an  entertainment  which  I  attended  when  I  was  in  Lon- 


154 


don  I  was  introduced  to  jNIr.,  afterwards  Sir  James  Fer- 
guson, the  architect  and  writer  on  architecture.  As  I 
was  thinking  of  A'isiting  the  Continent,  I  asked  him  to  in- 
form me  of  some  work  that  would  give  me  such  descrip- 
tions of  the  chief  buildings  as  would  enable  me  to  study 
them  with  intelligence.  He  answered,  'Mr.  Emerson,  I 
know  of  no  work  that  will  answer  your  purpose  better 
than  my  Hand  Book  of  Architecture.  I  would  advise  you 
to  get  it.'  Now,"  continued  Mr.  Emerson,  "I  can  con- 
ceive of  no  American  author  who  would  think  of  recom- 
mending any  of  his  own  books  so  unblushingly." 

This  incident,  so  illustrative  of  j\Ir.  Emerson's  simple, 
unaffected  modesty,  seemed  to  me  rather  as  an  evidence 
of  certain  traits  peculiar  to  himself  rather  than  applicable 
to  American  authors  as  a  class.  It  is  quite  conceivable 
that  outspoken  egotism  may  be  found  among  American 
men  of  letters.  Certainly  every  one  can  remember  native 
authors  whose  manner  if  not  their  speech  has  plainly  in- 
dicated a  self  appreciation  quite  equal  to  those  of  Europe. 

During  the  latter  part  of  sophomore  year  I  sent  an 
article  describing  my  trip  to  Brusa  accompanied  by 
several  illustrations  of  my  own,  to  the  Xational  Magazine. 
This  periodical  was  published  by  the  Methodists  and  held 
a  respectable  rank  at  a  time  when  Harper''s  Monthly,  the 
Knickerbocker  and  North  American  Bevieic  were  the  only 
really  prominent  magazines.  INIy  article  was  accepted 
and  published  by  the  National  Magazine.  The  illustra- 
tions were  very  well  engraved  considering  the  state  of  the 
art  in  America  at  that  time.  But  to  my  surprise  I  re- 
ceived no  check  and  heard  not  a  word  from  Dr.  Porter, 
the  editor.  Being  densely  ignorant  of  business  matters, 
and  especially  as  to  the  relations  which  not  uncommonly 


155 


obtain  between  author  and  editor  or  publisher,  I  wrote  to 
the  editor  of  the  National  Magazine  that  if  the  check  has 
miscarried  it  should  be  looked  up.  The  blood  curd- 
ling reply  which  I  received  should  have  proved  an  eye- 
opener  that  ought  to  have  effectually  diverted  me  from 
any  intention  of  making  a  livelihood  by  the  pen.  The 
reverend  editor  stated  that  he  did  not  propose  to  pay 
for  my  article ;  it  ought  to  be  sufficient  compensation  for  a 
new  writer,  a  young  collegian  at  that,  to  see  his  article 
published  and  illustrated  in  a  periodical  like  the 
National  Magazine.  The  reputation  thereby  acquired 
would  bring  other  opportunities  which  might  in  time  lead 
to  pecuniary  rewards.  Doubtless  according  to  the  ethics 
of  some  periodicals  the  Doctor  was  acting  within  his 
rights.  But  I  did  not  know  of  the  fact  then.  Hence,  in- 
stead of  accepting  the  pious  editor's  reply  as  final,  I  was 
so  unsophisticated  as  to  renew  my  request  for  a  check.  Of 
course  no  attention  was  paid  to  my  reply.  Happening  to 
be  in  New  York  some  weeks  later,  I  called  on  Dr.  Porter. 
He  received  me  civilly ;  he  was  handsome,  courteous,  digni- 
fied, clothed  in  the  conscious  integrit}^  of  his  Chris- 
tian profession.  But  he  firmly  though  blandly  declined  to 
pay  me  a  cent  for  my  article.  The  next  day  I  wrote  him 
that  if  I  did  not  receive  a  check  by  return  mail  I  should 
place  the  matter  in  a  lawyer's  hands.  The  check  came, 
and  a  liberal  one  too  for  those  days ! 

Notwithstanding  my  success  on  this  occasion,  I  would 
on  no  account  advise  a  young  writer  to  follow  my  example 
in  a  case  of  this  sort.  It  is  poor  policy  in  the  long  run  as 
things  are  constituted  in  the  literary  world.  Write  for 
nothing  in  the  form  of  money  until  your  reputation  is 
sufficiently  established  to  create  a  demand  for  your  work. 


156 


Write  because,  like  the  "Ancient  Mariner,"  you  have 
something    to  say  and  must  say  it  or  die. 

While  recording  this  disagreeable  incident  in  my  early 
literary  experiences  it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  mention 
an  experience  of  an  opposite  character  which  occurred 
about  the  same  time.  Theodore  Tilton  was  then  managing 
or  literary  editor  of  the  Independent.  I  sent  poems  to 
that  paper  several  times  while  in  college,  and  occasionally 
after  that.  He  published  them  promptly,  writing  me  kmd, 
pleasant  notes  about  them.  Although  I  never  asked  pay 
for  them,  entirely  satisfied  to  find  such  an  excellent  medi- 
um for  publishing  them,  yet  he  sent  me  checks  ever  after 
the  first  publication  of  my  poems  in  his  columns.  This 
modest  success  did  not  delude  me  however,  into  the  pre- 
posterous hope  of  making  a  living  out  of  writing  poetry 
in  this  age  and  country.  And  the  poetry  I  may  have 
composed  since  those  days  and  published  at  long  inter- 
vals has  been  solely  for  the  gratification  of  personal  emo- 
tions regardless  of  public  acceptance.  On  one  occasion 
Mr.  Tilton  performed  an  act  of  editorial  courtesy  alto- 
gether unique  and  which  I  can  never  forget.  Not  having 
space  for  one  of  my  poems  on  a  timely  subject,  he  actually 
took  it  to  another  periodical  and  had  it  published  there 
within  a  fortnight. 

In  the  summer  of  1858  I  took  a  walking  expedition 
with  my  friend  Day  such  as  were  quite  the  vogue  with 
students  of  our  country  colleges  in  those  days.  Now  they 
go  on  bicycles  or  automobiles  or  devote  themselves  to 
aquatic  and  athletic  sports.  I  had  already  taken  a  num- 
ber of  tramps  around  Williamstown  proving  that  I  was 
naturally  a  good,  enduring  pedestrian.  We  carried  knap- 
sacks  on    our  backs   and   averaged   twenty-five   to   thirty 


157 


miles  a  day.  Our  last  stretch,  from  sunset  until  nine 
o'clock  the  next  morning  was  thirty-five  miles.  This 
trip  with  my  good  friend  Day  was  one  of  the  most  en- 
joyable excursions  of  my  life.  I  was  enchanted  with  the 
scenery  of  Vermont  through  which  we  passed,  and  perhaps 
the  impression  made  upon  me  at  that  time  had  some  in- 
fluence in  taking  me  back  to  that  State  later  in  life,  and 
passing  my  summers  for  many  years  with  my  dear  wife 
and  daughter,  on  the  shores  of  what  seems  to  me  the 
most  picturesque  sheet  of  water  on  the  continent.  Even- 
tually we  built  there  a  long,  low  bungalow,  about  one 
hundred  feet  above  the  lake  on  the  shores  of  a  beautiful 
bay,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Burlington.  The  site  com- 
mands one  of  the  finest  views  of  the  Adirondack  region, 
on  the  Vermont  side  of  the  lake,  and  off  in  the  east  are 
seen  the  rounded  summits  of  the  Green  Mountain  range. 
We  struck  north  among  the  lovely  intervals  lying  west 
of  the  Green  Mountains  to  Rutland  and  Otter  Creek. 
We  then  turned  westward  to  Lake  George.  What  added 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  trip  was  the  delightful  companion- 
ship of  Day,  a  man  who  combined  in  his  character  the 
sterling  qualities  of  his  English  and  French  ancestry.  To 
rare,  sturdy  integrity  he  added  steadfastness  in  friend- 
ship, warm  affections,  great  delicacy  and  refinement,  an 
appreciative  love  of  the  beautiful  in  Nature,  tact,  a  de- 
licious sense  of  humor,  and  a  keen  perception  of  human 
nature.  He  had  a  passion  for  sport,  especially  trout  fish- 
ing, and  enjoyed  the  gift  of  elegant  literarj^  expression. 
Day  studied  medicine.  For  many  years  he  was  pro- 
fessor in  the  college  of  Materia  Medica  and  INIedical  In- 
spector of  the  Board  of  Health  of  New  York  City.  He 
died  of  heart  disease  in  the  prime  of  life.    Our  friendship 


158 


continued  to  the  last,  and  I  was  indebted  to  him  for  many 
disinterested  evidences  of  friendship. 

We  reached  Fort  William  Henry  Hotel  at  Caldwell 
about  twilight.  In  our  checked  shirt  sleeves,  less  common 
in  those  days  at  summer  resorts  than  now,  carrying  knap- 
sacks in  our  hands,  and  somewhat  the  worse  in  appearance 
for  marching  all  day  along  dusty  roads,  we  walked  boldly 
to  the  clerk's  desk  at  the  moment  a  stage  load  of  fashion- 
able ladies  and  gentlemen  were  also  arriving.  The  clerk 
took  a  quick  professional  glance  at  us  over  his  flamboyant 
stud  and  to  our  request  for  rooms  replied  carelessly,  "Yes, 
I  guess  so,"  and  then  studiously  neglected  us  while  he 
attended  to  other  business.  Finally  my  companion,  as 
the  elder,  exclaimed  briskly,  "If  you  can't  let  us  have 
a  good  room  right  away,  we'll  go  over  to  the  Caldwell 
House."  A  tone  of  confident  assurance  goes  a  great  way 
in  this  world ;  modesty  must  wait,  however  becoming, 
while  confidence  commands.  The  clerk  took  a  second  look, 
and  this  time  seemed  to  discover  gentilit}^  perhaps  money, 
under  our  dust  stained  clothes.  He  promptly  summoned 
two  colored  boys  to  carry  our  knapsacks  to  one  of  the 
best  corner  rooms  on  the  second  floor.  When  we  reached 
the  apartment  the  boys,  who  had  not  yet  discerned  as 
much  as  the  clerk,  invited  us  in  a  sneering  tone  to  show 
them  the  goods  we  had  for  sale  in  the  packs.  Day  made  a 
dash  for  one  of  them,  I  seized  the  other,  and  they  went  out 
of  the  door  so  quickly  the}^  had  not  time  to  know  whether 
they  were  on  their  heads  or  their  feet.  This  thrilling  in- 
cident evidently  echoed  to  the  ears  of  the  head  waiter  in 
the  dining  hall,  and  when  we  appeared  before  him  after 
bathing  and  donning  dark  suits  and  white  linen,  we  were 
served  like  princes  in  disguise.    Nothing  was  too  good  for 

159 
11 


us.  After  supper  we  met  some  friends  who  were  staying 
at  the  hotel.  This  confirmed  the  employees  in  their  revised 
estimate  of  our  social  position.  And  when  we  left  dressed 
as  we  had  entered  the  hotel,  as  mere,  pedestrians,  we  were 
treated  as  lords.  I  relate  this  trifling  incident  because  it 
is  typical  of  the  way  of  the  world  in  the  larger  affairs  of 
life.    It  was  an  epitome  of  human  nature ! 

We  were  up  betimes  the  following  day,  proposing  to 
take  a  trip  on  Lake  George  in  the  Steamer  Lady  of  the 
Lake.  But  on  comparing  purses  we  found  our  funds  too 
low  to  afford  it.  We  therefore  reluctantly  abandoned  the 
sail ;  and  I  contented  myself  with  taking  a  few  sketches 
including  one  that  had  the  steamer  in  the  distance  gliding 
away  on  what  proved  to  be  her  last  trip.  A  few  hours 
later  she  caught  fire  and  burned  to  the  water's  edge,  seven 
or  eight  of  her  passengers  losing  their  lives.  It  was  a 
narrow  escape  for  us. 

Nearly  half  of  my  Junior  year  was  passed  away 
from  college  by  permission  of  the  faculty,  on  condition 
that  I  should  keep  up  my  studies  in  my  absence.  The 
American  diet  of  those  days  especially,  consisted  largely 
of  hot  biscuit,  hot  cakes,  and  the  like,  so  different  from  the 
wholesome,  well  seasoned  cuisine  to  which  I  was  accus- 
tomed in  the  East,  disagreed  with  me,  together  with  reci- 
tation in  cold,  bare  rooms  at  unseasonable  hours,  and  long 
sessions  at  religious  services  immediately  after  hearty 
meals.  In  other  words  I  was  not  yet  acclimated  to  Ameri- 
can life.  One  result  was  a  serious  illness  that  greatly  re- 
duced me.  During  my  absence  I  assisted  my  mother  to 
establish  herself  at  Brookfield,  Massachusetts,  where  she 
decided  to  open  a  family  boarding  school  for  girls. 


160 


During  this  absence  I  was  informed  of  my  unanimous 
election  as  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Williams  Quarterly 
for  the  ensuing  year.  This  was  one  of  the  most  gratifying 
incidents  of  my  college  course  for  I  really  desired  it,  but, 
as  usual  in  such  matters,  had  not  even  expressed  a  wish 
on  the  subject  and  did  not  expect  it  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

My  senior  year  passed  serenely.  Few  incidents  of 
that  period  linger  in  my  memory,  hence  it  must  have  been 
serene.  The  studies  Averc  of  a  higher  order  than  those  of 
the  previous  years,  more  reflective  and  argumentative.  We 
were  leaving  the  textbooks  of  our  adolescence  behind,  and 
approaching  the  table-land  of  intellectual  emancipation 
and  manhood.  There  was  something  sobering,  at  least 
to  my  mind,  in  the  thought  that  but  a  few  months,  weeks 
and  days  and  I  should  be  adrift  on  the  wide  world,  under 
my  own  inexperienced  guidance  to  pick  out  a  course,  seek 
for  favoring  winds  and  point  however  deviously  for  a 
port  beyond  the  raging  billows. 

The  instinctive  way  in  which  some  of  our  minds  were 
already  beginning  to  look  for  new  paths  of  effort  out- 
side of  the  prescribed  collegiate  course  was  incidentally 
shown  by  the  curious  attempt  begun  in  the  latter  part  of 
my  junior  year  to  establish  an  art  association.  It  was 
suggested  first  I  think,  by  a  senior,  Horace  E.  Scudder, 
associated  with  Titus  M.  Coan,  both  well  known  since 
then  as  authors,  editors,  or  publishers,  Scudder  gathered 
about  him  a  few  enthusiasts  infected  with  the  new  Ruskin 
cult,  and  as  innocent  as  himself  as  to  the  true  scope  of 
a  practical  aesthetic  organization.  Scudder  was  the  first 
president  of  the  Williams  Art  Association,  and  I  succeed- 
ed him  in  senior  year,  probably  because  no  other  member 


161 


cared  for  the  office  or  knew  less  about  the  futility  of  such 
an  attempt  than  I  did.  I  believe  this  was  my  first  official 
position  and  this  was  probably  the  first  distinct  associa- 
tion for  the  active  promotion  of  art  education  in  an 
American  college.  The  faculty  kindly  granted  us  the  use 
of  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  old  chapel  building.  We  held 
our  meetings  there,  and  gathered  a  meagre  collection  of 
engravings,  water-colors  and  illustrations,  together  with  a 
few  simple  productions  by  two  or  three  of  the  members. 
Pitifully  small  as  was  this  collection  it  must  be  admitted 
that  it  showed  a  certain  intelligent  correct  feeling  and 
taste  as  far  as  it  went.  Only  one  of  the  then  members 
ever  practiced  art  professionally  after  graduation,  and 
this  effort  itself  was  premature  if  not  altogether  unsuit- 
able. The  time  for  the  culture  of  art  in  the  academies  and 
colleges  of  the  United  States  had  not  yet  come,  nor  has  it 
yet  arrived.  But  this  is  not  to  be  regretted.  Art  has  its 
own  special  channels  of  influence  and  instruction,  its  own 
special  organizations.  For  the  college  to  undertake  in- 
struction in  art,  whether  by  art  collections  or  by  direct 
tuition,  appears  incongruous,  inappropriate.  It  tends  to 
foster  the  notion  that  art  is  a  mere  accomplishment  rather 
than  an  earnest  pursuit,  while  it  robs  the  student  of  the 
time  and  energy  indispensable  for  the  legitimate  academic 
curriculum. 

I  recall  with  interest  also  the  fact  that  I  first  met  the 
poet  of  Thanatopsis  during  senior  year.  It  was  at  a 
reception  given  at  the  mansion  of  President  Hopkins  to 
which  some  members  of  the  upper  class  were  invited. 
William  Cullen  Bryant  had  studied  for  two  years  at  Wil- 
liams College  and  was  its  great  literary  lion.  His  presence 
on  this  occasion  was  therefore  an  event  of  some  moment. 


162 


In  the  course  of  the  evening  I  had  the  honor  of  an  intro- 
duction to  the  poet.  He  was  gracious  in  his  manner,  and 
considering  that  I  was  a  mere  under  graduate  I  was  sur- 
prised that  he  was  wilhng  to  converse  with  me  so  affably 
for  ten  minutes.  It  was  evident  to  me,  however,  that  he 
took  himself  very  seriously.  He  spoke  in  measured  per- 
iods, and  his  manner  was  to  the  last  degree  dignified  and 
impressive,  the  manner  of  the  monarch  of  a  mighty  em- 
pire. It  is  sometimes  in  such  interviews  with  men  of  note 
that  one  may  casually  gain  an  unerring  and  unexpected 
insight  into  their  character  or  the  scope  and  limitations 
of  their  genius.  Mr.  Bryant  had  visited  the  Levant  twice 
and  written  more  or  less  on  the  subject.  I  was  interested 
to  know  how  Oriental  scenery  had  impressed  one  who  was 
so  distinctly  a  poet  of  nature. 

"Mr.  Bryant,"  said  I,  "how  did  you  enjoy  the  East.^ 
How  did  the  landscapes  of  Greece  and  Turkey  impress 
you.  Sir.?"  "Not  favorably,"  he  replied;  "the  mountains 
are  too  barren,  vegetation  is  too  scarce;  there  are  not 
enough  forests  in  the  Levant.  The  scenery  of  America, 
Avith  the  music  of  its  streams  and  the  grandeur  of  its 
forests,  is  to  me  more  agreeable." 

This  statement  struck  me  at  once  as  a  forcible  indication 
of  the  limitations  of  the  poet's  mind,  coming  as  it  did 
from  one  who  at  that  very  time  was  posing  as  an  admirer 
of  Greece  and  her  literature  by  undertaking  the  transla- 
tion of  Homer.  It  was  evident  that  Mr.  Bryant  was  not 
what  is  called  a  wide  liker:  hence  his  capacity  for  enjoy- 
ment and  appreciation  was  restricted,  a  fact  implying 
narrow  if  acute  judgment  and  perhaps  imperfect  percep- 
tion of  the  relation  of  things.  It  was  evident  also  that  he 
had  a  feeble  sense  of  color,  and  his  own  poetry  seems  to 


163 


confirm  this.  Tlie  exquisite  coloring  which  is  a  prominent 
quality  of  Mediterranean  and  Oriental  scenery  and  at- 
mosphere, when  brilliant  more  brilliant  than  our  own,  and 
when  sober  suffused  with  unsurpassed  variety,  softness 
and  suggestion,  failed  to  touch  eyes  that  warmed  for  his 
native  landscape  alone.  I  must  add  that  in  spite  of  Mr. 
Bryant's  courtesy  to  me  on  that  occasion  or  the  kind  and 
recognizing  notice  he  subsequently  gave  to  my  humble 
volume  of  poems,  I  do  not  look  back  to  him  as  one  whose 
face  suggested  the  author  of  Thanatopsis,  The  Ape- 
nines  or  The  Conqueror^s  Grave,  three  of  the  finest 
conceptions  in  our  literature.  As  seen  across  a  room  his 
massive  head,  shaggy  eyebrows,  and  snowy  beard  looked 
altogether  Homeric.  With  a  harp  in  his  hands  he  might 
well  have  passed  for  a  bard  of  old.  But  on  nearer  inspec- 
tion one  could  not  but  observe  that  his  keenly  scintillating 
grey  eyes  gave  forth  no  warmth  of  heart  and  soul.  They 
were  cold,  judicial,  severe;  if  of  a  poet,  then  of  a  poet  of 
wrath  and  denunciation.  They  suggested  no  magnetic 
enthusiasm  or  passion,  but  marble.  How  a  man  like 
Bryant  composed  such  poems  is  to  me  a  psychological 
mystery. 

Of  course  the  most  important  feature,  the  great  fact  of 
our  senior  year,  was  the  instruction  we  enjoyed  under 
Dr.  Hopkins,  who  Avas  practically  our  only  preceptor  dur- 
ing the  last  three  terms  at  Williams.  It  is  true  we  re- 
ceived lessons  in  chemistry,  literature,  etc.  from  other 
members  of  the  faculty  during  that  year,  some  of  them 
men  of  a  certain  irregular  force  and  ability,  but,  to  use 
a  common  phrase,  they  did  not  count  in  comparison  with 
the  enlarging  influence  of  that  master  mind,  one  of  the 
greatest  of  those  who  have  ever  sought  to  mould  and  pre- 


164 


pare  developing  youth  for  life's  career.  He  discussed 
with  us  anatomy,  ethics,  and  metaphysics,  with  a  dash  of 
theology  on  Saturdays  when  the  "Assembly's  Shorter 
Catechism"  was  made  the  medium  of  analytical  inquiry 
into  the  problems  of  destiny.  The  information  we  gained 
from  such  theoretical  and  nebulous  studies  was  slight. 
But  the  mental  discipline  acquired  by  contact  with  such  an 
intellectual  power  as  Dr.  Hopkins  was  of  a  very  high 
order.  Even  those  minds  which  cared  least  for  such  men- 
tal exertion  were  aroused  for  the  time  being,  while  those 
who  sympathized  in  the  gymnastics  of  thought,  passed 
their  leisure  moments  in  continuing  discussion  of  the  ques- 
tions brought  up  by  the  president.  It  was  highly  amus- 
ing to  observe  them  balancing  on  the  fence  of  the  college 
grounds  eagerly  disputing  on  nominalism,  realism  or 
idealism,  predestination,  free  agency,  altruism,  and  kin- 
dred topics  with  the  earnestness  of  men  on  whom  the  uni- 
verse depended.  Dr.  Hopkins'  method  was  practically  to 
elevate  his  students  to  the  rank  of  companions.  Instead 
of  lecturing  an  hour  and  then  dismissing  them  he  made 
fellow  disputants.  Not  only  did  he  ask  questions  him- 
self, but  he  invited  and  answered  questions  and  arguments. 
As  he  selected  those  to  be  interrogated  by  lot,  there  was  no 
favoritism,  and  all  in  turn  entered  into  the  discussion  and 
hence  were  obliged  to  give  close  attention  to  what  was  go- 
ing on.  The  occasion  was  often  enlivened  by  pithy  il- 
lustrative anecdotes  or  humorous  sallies.  Prex  greatly 
enjoyed  cornering  a  student  by  asking  him  some  seem- 
ingly unimportant  question,  following  it  up  until  he 
floored  him  with  the  argiimentum  ad  absurd um;  then  the 
entire  class  collapsed  with  laughter,  Dr.  Hopkins  himself 
joining  with  us  heartily. 


165 


Dr.  Hopkins  was  above  all  things  a  born  leader  of  men, 
an  orator,  a  diplomat.  He  had  admirable  self  control,  a 
deep  knowledge  of  human  nature,  immense  tact,  and  a  per- 
suasive address  couched  in  a  phraseology  peculiarly  his 
own,  that  moulded  characters  and  opinions.  This  latter 
talent  was  greatly  aided  by  his  keen  sense  of  humor,  an 
important  qualification  for  one  who  would  lead  men.  He 
was  also  equipped  with  a  power  of  sharp  sarcasm  and  in- 
fective which,  happily,  he  employed  only  on  rare  occasions. 
His  logic  was  cumulative,  proceeding  by  steady  sequence 
to  an  irresistable  climax  and  his  arguments  were  presented 
with  an  earnest  sincerity  such  as  marks  the  great  orators, 
and  is  more  permanently  effective  than  a  graceful  delivery 
alone.  Dr.  Hopkins  was  undoubtedly  assisted  in  his  pub- 
lic appearances  by  a  towering,  massive  figure.  Other 
things  being  equal,  a  large  man  greatly  handicaps  one  of 
short  stature  in  public  life.  Although  the  Graces  do  not 
seem  to  have  presided  at  his  birth,  the  mental  and 
physical  qualities  so  combined  in  him  with  the  suscep- 
tibilities as  to  render  him  one  of  the  greatest  orators  of 
this  or  any  other  age. 

To  his  intellectual  powers  President  Hopkins  added  a 
kind  heart,  warm  feeling,  tender  emotions  and  a  broad 
charity.  If  we  admired  him  for  the  former,  we  loved  him 
for  the  latter.  Men  of  combative,  dictatorial  character 
sometimes  called  him  weak  or  politic.  He  himself  was 
capable  of  tremendous  wrath  on  occasion,  but  a  conscious- 
ness of  strength  led  him  to  prefer  to  win  his  battles  by 
less  forceful  but  no  less  efficacious  methods.  Because  of 
his  generally  temperate  tone  and  manner  I  remember 
the  more  vividly  an  extraordinary  incident  that  occurred 
while  he  was  preaching  one  Sunday  afternoon  during  a 


166 


revival.  Several  of  my  classmates,  who  took  but  slight 
interest  in  what  were  termed  serious  things,  and  who  were 
therefore  more  readily  overcome  after  a  hearty  dinner  by 
the  heavy  air  in  the  galleries,  had  fallen  asleep  during  one 
of  the  preacher's  most  solemn  sermon  appeals.  His  keen 
eye  detected  these  unfortunate  beings  lolling  on  the 
cushionless  benches,  their  heads  dropping  in  poppied 
slumber.  Pausing  a  moment,  Dr.  Hopkins  fixed  his  stern 
gaze  on  them,  thus  attracting  the  attention  of  all  pres- 
ent ;  then  he  reached  his  long  arm  toward  the  sleepers  and 
with  a  voice  that  rang  from  one  end  of  the  building  to 
the  other  he  exclaimed,  "Yea,  sinners  will  sleep  even  when 
the  message  of  God  sounds  in  their  ears  warning  them  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come!"  The  unhappy  youths 
needed  no  second  call;  they  started  up  looking  sheepish 
enough,  and  a  smile  passed  around  the  audience. 

At  the  time  when  Jane  Eyre  was  at  the  flood  tide  of 
its  popularity  it  was  read  and  discussed  by  every  social 
and  literary  clique  in  Williamstown.  Of  course  a  copy 
found  its  way  to  the  house  of  the  President;  it  was  read 
with  avidity  by  the  ladies  of  his  family,  and  talked  about 
in  his  presence;  but  no  one  supposed  that,  immersed  in  his' 
classes  and  metaphys.ics,  Dr.  Hopkins  had  given  the 
slightest  thought  to  the  book,  or  would  condescend  to 
concern  himself  with  a  popular  romance.  But  one  day 
Jane  Eyre  was  missed,  and  defied  all  efi'orts  to  find  it. 
Soon  after  one  of  Dr.  Hopkins'  daughters,  stepping  into 
his  study  unexpectedly,  detected  him  deeply  engaged  in 
the  absorbing  pages  of  that  novel.  Exclaiming,  "Oh 
pshaw !"  he  hastily  laid  down  the  book  and  snatched  up 
his  pen.  But  the  secret  was  out  and  was  too  good  to 
keep.     The  great  Dr.  Hopkins  was  actually  devouring  a 


167 


popular  novel  with  the  intensity  of  a  young  school  girl. 
Immensely  amused,  02ie  after  another  of  his  family 
dropped  into  his  study  on  various  pretexts  to  enjoy  the 
fun  of  seeing  him  fling  the  book  petulantly  aside  as  if 
ashamed  to  be  caught  reading  it.  I  think  none  who  heard 
of  this  incident  respected  him  the  less,  while  all  except  here 
and  there  a  prig,  loved  him  more  for  such  evidence  of  a 
fellow  feeling  with  what  interests  other  mortals. 


168 


CHAPTER   VII. 


EPISODES  OF  TEACHING  AND  LIFE  AT  ALBANY. 

When  I  left  college  I  had  a  little  of  my  share  of  our 
patrimony,  remaining.  It  was  all  I  had  to  begin  life  with, 
except  several  hundred  books.  I  had  formed  no  expensive 
habits ;  but  I  knew  little  of  the  value  of  money,  and  cared 
little  for  it  except  for  what  it  might  bring,  in  permitting 
freedom  to  follow  my  intellectual  tastes.  Still  I  knew  it 
never  would  do  to  wait  until  what  money  I  had,  was  gone. 
Through  the  kind  influence  of  a  good  friend  of  our  family, 
resident  in  New  York,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Geo.  W.  Wood,  I 
received  the  appointment  of  principal  of  Staples  Free 
Academy  at  Easton,  Connecticut,  within  a  few  weeks  after 
my  graduation.  The  position  was  considered  unusually 
good,  for  one  just  out  of  college.  The  salary  was  $500, 
equivalent  to  at  least  twice  that  sum  in  New  York  then, 
or  anywhere  in  America  now.  It  was  a  hazardous  experi- 
ment, however,  because  I  lacked  experience  in  teaching 
and  was  weak  in  mathematics,  I  accepted  the  place 
temporarily.  The  experience  would  be  of  value,  at  least, 
for  Ave  learn  that  every  eflort,  and  energy  expended,  gen- 
erally brings  a  return  sometime  in  someway. 

Captain  Alfred  Burr,  a  hale,  jolly  old  farmer  and  one  of 
the  trustees  of  the  Academy  welcomed  me  to  his  house  when 


169 


I  arrived  one  September  evening  at  the  straggling  little 
New  England  village  of  Easton  Center  after  a  ride  of 
nine  miles  by  stage  coach  from  Bridgeport.  He  offered 
me  room  and  board  under  his  roof  for  the  modest  sum  of 
three  dollars  a  week.  That  certainly  was  reasonable 
enough.  The  following  day  was  Sunday,  and  I  shall  not 
soon  forget  the  curious  interest  shown  by  the  entire  con- 
gregation, including  the  fair  sex  of  course,  in  the  short, 
slender,  blonde,  brown  eyed  youth  with  a  budding  mustache 
who  sat  in  Captain  Burr's  pew,  in  one  of  the  front  corners 
of  the  church  near  the  pulpit.  The  interest  for  the  time  be- 
ing, could  hardly  have  been  greater  if  I  had  been  a  young, 
unmarried  minister.  Still  suffering  somewhat  from  con- 
stitutional diffidence,  I  found  it  rather  a  trying  ordeal. 
When  I  entered  the  schoolroom  on  Monday  I  found 
about  forty  pupils  seated  there  awaiting  me.  They 
ranged  from  thirteen  to  twenty — I  was  only  twenty-two. 
Nearly  half  of  them  were  buxom  maidens  qualified  to  make 
the  heart  of  the  young  man  quail.  They  certainly  looked 
less  abashed  than  I  felt.  As  to  the  boys  and  young  men  a 
number  were  nearly  six  feet  high,  and  I  opined  from  a 
glance  at  some  of  them  that  all  my  tact  and  will  power 
would  be  called  into  exercise  before  I  got  through  with 
them,  perhaps  also  some  muscle. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  take  their  intellectual 
measure,  that  is  to  ascertain  in  what  studies  they  were 
most  proficient,  in  what  they  were  deficient,  to  look  over 
their  textbooks,  arrange  the  classes  and  assign  to  each 
his  tasks.  The  question  of  arithmetic  and  mathematics  I 
approached  with  caution.  I  had  resolved  already  what 
course  to  pursue  on  this  subject  but  desired  to  bring  it 
about  with  as  little  friction  as  possible  and  in  such  manner 


170 


as  to  suggest  no  suspicion  of  my  motives.  Happily  I 
found  that  all  the  pupils  had  studied  arithmetic  out  of  the 
same  textbook  term  after  term.  Very  naturally  they  pre- 
ferred to  continue  solving  the  same  problems  they  already 
knew  by  heart.  I  found  that  practically  they  had  ruled 
the  school,  forcing  my  predecessors  to  leave  the  choice  of 
studies  with  the  pupils.  Hence  the  latter  knew  little  thor- 
oughly or  at  all  besides  arithmetic,  although  several  were 
ostensibly  preparing  for  college.  A  few  of  them,  had 
studied  algebra  which  I  utterly  detested.  But  none  of 
them  had  looked  into  geometry.  Here  then  was  my  chance. 
At  dinner  time  I  asked  Captain  Burr  if  he,  as  trustee, 
objected  to  the  introduction  of  new  studies  in  the 
Academy,  such  as  in  my  judgment  seemed  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  the  institution.  He  was  flattered  by  the  def- 
erence shown  to  his  opinion  and  left  the  matter  entirely 
to  me.  In  the  afternoon  session,  therefore,  I  announced 
that  the  classes  in  Latin  and  grammar  would  be  enlarged 
and  that  a  course  in  natural  history  would  be  introduced. 
I  then  caused  a  sensation  by  adding  that  for  the  present 
geometry  would  be  substituted  for  arithmetic,  in  which 
the  school  had  been  so  thoroughly  drilled  that  there  could 
be  no  mental  discipline  in  going  over  it  again. 

For  some  weeks  matters  proceeded  smoothly.  Although 
I  understood  geometr}'  but  little  better  than  when  I 
stumbled  through  it  in  freshman  year,  yet  I  was  able  to 
teach  it  effectively  by  memorizing  each  problem  and  its 
solution.  Our  good  Professor  Tatlock  at  Williams  had 
geometry  so  much  at  his  fingers'  ends  that  he  went  into 
the  classroom  without  the  textbook.  I  did  the  same  in 
order  to  appear  as  pastmaster  in  a  science  I  did  not  under- 
stand, hearing  the  demonstrations  or  explaining  them  as 


171 


if  they  were  as  clear  as  daylight  to  my  mind  and  familiar 
as  a.  b.  c.  But  it  was  all  done  by  memory.  I  sat  up 
nightly  until  the  small  hours,  learned  the  problems  by 
heart  and  carried  them  in  my  mind  until  after  the  recita- 
tion was  over.  The  main  difficulty  was  that  if  a  pupil 
stumbled  in  explaining  a  problem  I  could  not  take  it  up 
where  he  left  off,  but  had  to  begin  at  the  beginning  and 
go  all  through  it,  for,  of  course,  I  had  no  prompter,  and 
it  was  only  by  giving  it  entire,  that  my  memory  served. 
In  this  way  I  went  through  Euclid  without  a  single  slip 
of  the  memory.  The  feat  is  not  so  difficult  as  one  would 
suppose.  It  implied  intense  application  in  memorizing 
and  carrying  the  problem  and  perfect  self-control  in  the 
schoolroom,  but  only  for  a  few  hours.  I  can  learn  any- 
thing in  that  way,  but  unless  it  is  something  in  which  I 
am  interested  the  impression  fades  away  when  the  pres- 
sure is  past,  like  an  undeveloped  photographic  impres- 
sion. My  memory  is  naturally  retentive,  except  for  mat- 
ters acquired  by  rote  for  a  specific,  and  uncongenial  end. 

But  after  conducting  themselves  for  over  a  month  with 
a  docility  unusual,  some  of  the  more  unruly  or  indolent 
pupils  began  to  object  to  geometry  and  to  demand  the 
restoration  of  arithmetic.  I  was  privately  informed  by 
two  of  the  youths,  who  had  taken  a  liking  to  me  and  al- 
ways remained  faithful,  that  a  plot  was  already  formed 
to  force  me  out  of  the  school  by  a  well  defined  system  of 
persecution  such  as  they  had  practiced  with  my  predeces- 
sors, their  motive  being  akin  to  that  of  many  politicans, 
to  rule  or  ruin.  A  significant  incident  soon  occurred  like 
a  straw  showing  the  way  the  wind  is  veering.  One  day 
in  the  midst  of  the  Latin  recitation  one  of  the  larger  boys. 


172 


who  was  supposed  to  be  studying  his  natural  history, 
raised  his  hand  to  call  my  attention. 

'^What  is  it,  White?"  said  I. 

"I  can't  see  how  to  do  this  sum?" 

"What  sum?" 

"Why,  this  last  sum  in  the  arithmetic,  Sir." 

"Is  the  sum  part  of  your  lesson  today?" 

"No,  but  I  just  thought  I'd  like  to  do  it,  and  I  want 
3'ou  to  help  me." 

I  saw  at  once  that  this  was  a  trap  set  by  the  con- 
spirators to  catch  me.  After  weeks  of  surmising  why  I 
had  laid  aside  arithmetic  in  the  Academy,  some  shrewd 
ringleader  seemed  at  last  to  have  suspected  that  it  might 
be  because  of  inability  on  my  part  to  teach  arithmetic. 
Once  let  that  suspicion  be  verified  and  my  career  at 
Staples  Free  Academy  was  ended.  Therefore  I  replied 
with  perfect  coolness  and  distinct  asperity,  "George 
White,  you  ought  to  know  better  than  to  interrupt  me  un- 
necessarily when  I  am  hearing  a  recitation,  and  especially 
about  something  that  does  not  concern  your  own  lessons. 
Now  you  can  just  attend  to  your  regular  studies.  At 
some  more  proper  time,  if  you  wish,  I  will  show  you  how 
to  do  tliat  sum." 

A  titter  passed  around  the  room,  and  for  the  time  be- 
ing the  danger  was  averted.  But  I  was  well  aware  the 
crisis  could  not  be  long  postponed,  and  that  the  victory 
would  lie  with  the  one  who  should  strike  the  first  blow. 
Luckily  this  incident  happened  in  the  morning  session, 
otherwise  I  should  have  lost  the  game.  I  have  been  ])ar- 
ticularly  fortunate  at  certain  critical  moments  of  life  in 
having  trifling  turns  of  luck  unexpectedly  offer  them- 
selves  which,  being   iiistantlv   seized,   have   savt'd   mv   from 


173 


very  disagreeable  results.  When  I  went  home  to  dinner 
at  noon,  I  found  that  Captain  Burr's  son,  who  had  but 
just  returned  from  the  west,  was  going  to  Bridgeport  that 
very  afternoon,  which  happened  to  be  the  Saturday  half 
holiday,  another  capital  point  in  my  favor.  I  requested 
him  not  to  fail  to  bring  me  a  key  to  the  arithmetic  if  he 
had  to  go  all  over  Bridgeport  to  find  it.  Mr.  Burr  re- 
turned at  bed  time  with  the  "key!"  Never  in  my  life 
have  I  enjoyed  a  keener  sense  of  relief  and  triumph. 

I  lost  not  a  moment  with  grappling  with  that  terrible 
problem.  The  answer  or  rather  the  analysis  of  the  ques- 
tion covered  a  whole  page  of  the  key.  To  undertake  to 
solve  the  sum  by  reasoning  it  out,  when  I  understood  noth- 
ing of  the  problems  for  a  hundred  pages  back,  was  out  of 
the  question  at  the  time.  I  had  a  working  knowledge  of 
arithmetic  simply  for  accounts  but  for  nothing  beyond 
that.  The  best  I  could  do  therefore  was  to  memorize  the 
entire  calculation,  and  so  thoroughly  that  I  could  begin  any 
part  without  becoming  confused  or  losing  the  logical  se- 
quence of  the  formidable  platoon  of  figures ;  for  I  knew 
perfectly  well  that  my  enemies  had  the  problem  at  their 
fingers'  ends  and  would  be  sure  to  trip  me  if  I  made  a 
mistake  of  a  single  figure.  I  began  by  writing  out  the 
answer  as  a  whole  and  in  parts,  in  order  to  familiarize 
myself  by  the  sight  of  the  figures.  I  sat  up  until  three 
o'clock  that  night,  resumed  my  task  after  breakfast,  ex- 
cused myself  from  afternoon  service,  and  continued  my 
task  until  midnight,  until  I  could  almost  repeat  the  pro- 
cess backward ;  I  went  at  it  again  before  breakfast  Mon- 
day morning,  until  I  felt  sure  that  I  had  mastered  the 
problem  and  the  school  as  well.  It  should  be  added  that 
along  with  this  task  I  also  had  to  learn  my  daily  stunt  in 
Euclid. 

174 


On  Tuesday,  conscious  that  I  could  not  carry  that  bur- 
den on  my  memory  much  longer,  without  a  reaction,  I 
said  in  a  nonchalant  tone  during  recess,  "By  the  way, 
White,  if  you  want  me  to  explain  how  to  do  the  sum  you 
asked  me  about  last  week,  I  will  show  you  now.  But,  re- 
member, you  must  not  meddle  during  school  hours  with 
studies  that  do  not  concern  the  course  we  selected  at  the 
beginning  of  the  term."  Then  I  took  a  piece  of  chalk  and 
demonstrated  the  problem,  covering  the  blackboard  with 
figures  entirely  by  effort  of  memory,  while  the  whole 
school,  eager  with  curiosity  or  disappointed  mischief, 
looked  on  without  saying  a  word.  As  if  out  of  bravado, 
I  repeated  various  isolated  parts  of  the  process,  thereby 
showing  that  I  understood  and  could  explain  the  most  ob- 
struse  arithmetical  puzzles.  My  memory  served  me  well, 
and  apparently  not  a  slip  occurred,  for  some  of  my  au- 
dience were  entirely  able  to  trip  me  if  any  mistake  hap- 
pened in  my  demonstration. 

After  this  triumph  there  was  no  more  question  of  my 
knowledge  of  arithmetic.  Indeed  the  respect  of  the  school 
and  of  the  community  for  my  supposed  grasp  of  various 
sorts  of  information  was  greatly  increased,  but  the  ring- 
leaders of  the  cabal  were  chagrined  and  sullen. 

When  I  reached  the  Academy  one  morning,  instead  of 
finding  the  pupils  chattering  in  groups  about  the  entrance 
or  in  the  lobby,  I  noticed  that  a  great  stillness  pervaded 
the  building.  This  conduct  was  a  complete  give-a-way  on 
their  part.  As  I  had  not  passed  four  years  at  Williams 
College  for  nothing,  I  scented  mischief  in  the  air  at  once, 
and  was  not  mistaken.  The  pupils  were  all  in  their  seats 
awaiting  my  coming,  although  it  yet  lacked  five  minutes 
of  the  opening  hour.     It  was  not  a  cold  morning,  but  tlie 

175 
12 


huge  box  stove,  which  stood  near  my  own  desk,  was 
crammed  with  wood,  and  red  hot.  The  windows  at  my 
end  of  the  room  were  also  tightly  shut,  although  let  down 
at  the  top  where  the  pupils  sat.  Instead  of  taking  off 
my  overcoat,  as  usual,  I  kept  it  on,  and  when  the  clock 
struck  nine  I  ordered  the  door  and  every  window  to  be 
closed.  Then  I  directed  two  boys  to  bring  more  wood, 
and  fill  the  stove  to  its  utmost  capacity.  The  room  be- 
came as  warm  as  tophet,  and  before  long,  hand  after  hand 
was  raised  by  pupils  begging  to  have  the  windows  opened. 
I  merely  replied  that  as  I  could  endure  the  temperature  in 
my  winter  overcoat  the  air  could  not  be  oppressive,  and 
ordered  the  fuel  to  be  replenished.  I  felt  really  sorry  for 
some  of  the  pretty  girls  whose  faces  had  become  purple 
and  dripped  with  perspiration,  but  the  time  for  mercy  had 
passed.  I  was  weary  of  this  nonsense,  and  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  master  the  young  ruffians  who  had  so  long 
domineered  at  Staples  Free  Academy,  or  perish  in  the  at- 
tempt. I  had  treated  every  one  there  with  justice,  civility, 
and  kindness,  had  put  them  well  forward  in  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  and  the  whole  trouble  originated  in  pul'e 
"cussedness."  When  noon  arrived  the  schoolroom  was  so 
hot  that  it  lacked  but  little  of  setting  the  building  on  fire. 
The  pupils  sneaked  out  to  dinner  more  dead  than  alive ; 
but  they  never  tried  that  game  again.  Eventually,  the 
two  most  troublesome  boys,  were  expelled  from  school. 

When  the  long  term  closed  at  Christmas  the  trustees 
were  pleased  to  express  their  satisfaction  with  my  course 
at  Staples  Free  Academy,  and  urged  me  to  continue  as 
principal.  Although  I  had  prepared  myself  to  teach 
arithmetic,  if  I  should  return,  I  decided  on  mature  con- 
sideration to  decline  the  invitation  of  the  trustees.     Mv 


176 


leisure  moments  were  devoted  to  studying  nature,  writ- 
ing essays,  some  of  which  were  eventually  published,  and 
composing  poetry,  which  was  my  greatest  intellectual 
pleasure  in  those  days.  At  this  time  I  published  my  first 
and  practically  my  only  volume  of  poetry,  entitled  Con- 
stantinople, the  Isle  of  Pearls,  and  other  Poems.  I  was 
not  so  unsophisticated  as  to  fancy  that  any  publisher 
would  at  his  own  risk  issue  a  collection  by  an  unknown 
poet,  without  strong  literary  backing.  Therefore  I  se- 
sured  enough  subscriptions  to  pay  the  expense.  The 
copies  sent  to  the  press  were  received  with  great  kindness. 
The  New  York  Evening  Post  said  that  the  book  in- 
dicated promise,  and  the  Congregationalist  gave  me  a 
glowing  critique  of  over  a  column.  Although  I  had  no 
cause  to  complain  of  the  success  of  my  first  effort,  and 
have  since  then  written  and  published  considerable  verse, 
yet  as  the  years  went  on,  a  survey  of  life  made  me  more  and 
more  indifferent  to  publishing  my  poems  in  book  form, 
and  my  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Abraham  Lincoln  and 
the  metrical  translation  of  Muretus'  Latin  ode  en- 
titled Advice  to  a  Son,  are  the  only  exceptions  I  have 
made  in  mature  years  to  the  rule.  This  has  been  due  to 
the  fact  that  unless  I  could  be  a  great  poet,  I  did  not  care 
to  make  public  verses  inspired  chiefly  by  personal  feel- 
ings ;  to  be  such  a  poet  would  naturally  demand  a  life- 
service  to  the  muse.  To  be  merely  a  minor  poet  in  a 
busy,  commercial  country  swarming  with  such  poets,  hum- 
ming their  little  song  and  as  soon  forgotten  as  the  fire- 
flies of  a  summer  eve,  was  not  my  ambition.  And  then 
came  my  devotion  to  painting,  to  which  for  several  years 
I  gave  my  best  energies  and  enthusiasm. 


177 


In  1861  I  was  informed  that  the  trustees  of  the  New 
York  State  Library  at  Albany  had  elected  me  assistant 
librarian.  I  was  glad  to  accept  the  position,  rather  as  an- 
other step  in  life  than  as  a  permanency.  It  offered  me  an 
honorable  and  comfortable  berth  as  a  single  man,  training 
in  methodical  habits,  and  a  means  for  acquiring  a  knowl- 
edge of  books  that  would  doubtless  prove  very  useful.  If 
I  could  not  read  them  all,  at  any  rate  in  a  carefully 
selected  collection  of  80,000  volumes,  including  many 
books  of  comparative  rarity,  I  could  learn  much  of  where 
knowledge  could  be  found.  The  library  opened  at  nine 
and  closed  at  five,  except  during  the  sessions  of  the  legis- 
lature, when  it  was  kept  open  until  ten  P.  M.  As  the  ses- 
sions sometimes  lasted  six  months,  it  is  evidsTit  that  the 
•average  hours  of  duty  were  sufficiently  long,  even  when  we 
took  turns  at  relieving  each  other.  The  library  did  not 
open  until  I  appeared  in  the  morning  and  during  the 
three  years  that  I  was  there,  I  arrived  invariably  on  the 
second.  It  was  not  a  circulating,  but  a  consulting  library 
for  the  justices  and  the  members  of  the  legislature. 
We  added  an  average  of  1<,000  volumes  a  year,  kept  a 
printed  catalogue,  of  which  new  editions  or  bulletins  were 
constantly  required,  besides  carefully  filing  all  pamphlets 
and  state,  federal,  and  foreign  official  documents.  Among 
other  tasks  I  indexed  800  volumes  of  bound  pamphlets. 
The  general  public  is  little  aware  how  often  even  the  most 
apparently  worthless  pamphlets  are  consulted  by  scholars. 

Of  course,  every  position  has  its  disagreeable  features, 
and  at  Albany  one  of  the  most  annoying  was  the  fact  that 
the  legislature  threatened  every  year  to  cut  down  the  suf- 
ficiently meagre  salaries  of  the  library,  and  much  attention 
had  to  be  given  on  our  part  to  prevent  this.     The  rural 


178 


members,  who  were  accustomed  to  get  their  board  and 
lodging  off  their  farms,  and  to  gauge  the  price  of  intel- 
lectual work  by  the  pay  of  farm  hands  or  young  teachers 
in  the  country  district  schools,  were  especially  keen  in 
trying  to  whittle  down  our  compensation. 

But  on  the  whole  I  rather  enjoyed  my  life  at  the  State 
Library.  I  kept  to  my  habits  of  walking,  often  going  out 
on  a  tramp  in  the  suburbs  before  breakfast.  I  cannot  ad- 
vise anyone  to  walk  far  in  that  way,  but  my  duties  at  that 
time  forced  me  to  this  objectionable  habit.  In  summer  I 
sometimes  took  an  afternoon  for  boating  on  the  Hudson. 
The  annual  vacation  was  but  two  weeks.  Albany,  the 
buildings,  not  the  people,  was  not  attractive  for  residence; 
but  the  neighboring  country  was  very  agreeable;  and  the 
city  presented  a  rather  foreign  and  dreamily  beautiful  ef- 
fect in  those  days  when  the  sun  was  low  in  the  morning 
and  evening  and  the  purple  mists  and  slanting  gleams 
veiled  and  glorified  the  ugly  buildings  crowded  on  the 
steep  slopes  and  in  the  ravines.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
"culture"'  in  the  Boston  sense  existed  in  Albany  at  that 
time.  Society  there  as  I  found  and  mingled  with  it,  was 
much  as  it  is  elsewhere,  although  the  distinctions  were  pos- 
sibly more  marked. 

Albanians  were  not  indifferent  to  local  talent  develop- 
ing in  other  directions  than  business  and  politics.  Al- 
though it  was  not  the  place  where  an  ambitious  artist,  for 
example,  would  care  to  work  out  his  destiny,  there  are 
worse  places  in  which  a  young  artist  or  author  can  make 
his  debut.  Dr.  Ray  Palmer  here,  I  believe,  wrote  his  de- 
votional lyrics.  Among  them,  the  beautiful  My  Faith 
Looks  up  fa  Thee.  Certainly  Palmer,  the  sculptor  be- 
gan and  passed  his  entire  art  life  at  Albany,  and  he  had 


179 


scant  reason,  so  far  as  I  know,  to  complain  of  the  en- 
couragement given  him  by  the  citizens  of  that  city. 
Launt  Thompson,  one  of  our  greatest  sculptors,  began 
at  Albany  and  took  his  first  lessons  from  Palmer.  George 
Boughton  and  the  brothers,  William  and  James  Hart,  also 
began  their  art  career  in  Albany.  There  were  a  number 
of  scientific  men  connected  with  the  State  government  like 
James  Hill,  the  geologist,  who  gave  a  certain  elevation  to 
circles  at  Albany  in  those  days ;  and  a  few  authors  of  more 
or  less  distinction  gave  a  quasi  literary  tone  to  the  social 
atmosphere  while  suggesting  the  barrenness  of  culture  by 
their  rarity.  Chief  among  them,  were  William  L.  Stone, 
Alfred  B.  Street,  and  John  G.  Saxe.  It  is  true  that  Stone 
lived  at  Saratoga,  but  he  passed  much  of  his  time  con- 
sulting the  State  records  for  his  colonial  histories.  In 
this  connection  I  may  mention  Dr.  O'Callaghan,  the  State 
historian,  and  Gen.  J.  Meredith  Read.  The  former  was  a 
most  entertaining  conversationalist,  full  of  amusing  anec- 
dotes and  reminiscences.  Read  resided  in  Albany  at  that 
time  and  passed  many  hours  at  the  library  preparing  his 
life  of  Major  Andre.  Neither  Read  nor  I  dreamed,  as 
we  met  in  those  days,  he  enjoying  an  elegant  literary 
leisure,  and  I  just  beginning  to  win  my  way,  that  in 
future  years  we  should  meet  as  diplomats  who  had  repre- 
sented our  country  abroad.  Read  came  from  an  old 
Philadelphia  family  and  had  married  a  lady  of  wealth  at 
Albany.  He  had,  as  is  well  known,  a  weakness  for  place, 
but  he  never  forgot  the  deportment  of  a  gentleman  which 
he  was,  emphatically,  and  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

Street,  I  knew  well,  for  as  custodian  of  the  splendid 
law  department  of  the  State  Library,  he  was  one  of  my 
colleagues.     Of  course  he  was  much  my  elder,  having  al- 


180 


ready  achieved  what  he  was  destined  to  accomplish  in 
literature;  he  had  lived  long  enough  to  pass  the  age  of 
hope,  and  had  reached  the  period  of  disappointment  and 
regret.  Street  entered  on  his  career  with  poetic  aspira- 
tions, weighted  by  that  over-estimate  of  his  abilities  that 
often  results  in  an  embittered  soul.  Possessed  of  wide 
reading,  he  had  a  fondness  for  nature  in  early  life,  and 
within  certain  limitation  a  power  of  keen  analytical  ob- 
servation, but  with  only  moderate  sentiment  or  sense  of 
the  music  of  rhythmic  expression.  He  possessed  none  of 
the  majesty  of  thought  which  elevated  Bryant's  poetry 
above  the  minuteness  of  the  naturalists'  descriptions.  It 
is  doubtful  whether  at  any  other  period  of  American  liter- 
ature Street  could  have  won  the  reputation  he  held  at  one 
time.  In  other  words,  he  was  a  man  of  talent,  but  lacking 
in  the  fire  of  genius.  I  well  remember  a  walk  I  took  with 
Street  one  charming  afternoon  in  October.  Nature  was 
in  one  of  her  most  winning  and  enchanting  moods.  I 
could  not  avoid  giving  frequent  utterance  to  my  en- 
thusiasm. What  was  my  amazement,  then,  when  Street, 
a  poet  of  nature  par  excellence,  stopped,  faced  me,  and 
stamping  his  cane  impatiently  on  the  ground,  exclaimed, 
"I  tell  you,  Benjamin,  all  this  talk  about  the  love  of  nature 
and  the  influence  of  nature  on  the  soul  is  a  humbug.  I 
have  lived  long  enough  to  find  out  that  it  does  not  pay.  I 
don't  doubt  that  you  think  that  you  love  nature  now, 
but  you  will  live  to  discover  that  it  is  a  superficial  senti- 
ment or  a  mere  affectation."  I  was  so  dumbfounded  by  such 
an  utterance  from  such  a  source,  that  I  could  only  walk 
on  in  silence  for  some  moments,  and  then  turned  the  sub- 
ject. But  it  gave  me  a  key  to  the  character  of  Street, 
and  at  least  one  reasonable  explanation  of  his  failure  to 


181 


achieve  greater  things.  I  have  since  then  been  led  to  ob- 
serve that  the  author  who  writes  for  fame  rather  than  be- 
cause he  is  moved  by  deep,  over-mastering  thoughts  that 
demand  expression  cannot  win  true  success,  which,  in  the 
highest  sense  comes  only  to  the  artist  or  author  who  leaves 
the  question  of  fame  or  money  to  take  care  of  itself,  pro- 
vided he  has  requisite  genius. 

There  could  not  be  two  characters  more  unlike  than  Al- 
fred B.  Street  and  John  G.  Saxe.  Nothing  could  be 
more  unconventional  than  the  way  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Saxe.  I  was  not  even  aware  that  he  was  living  in 
Albany,  when  a  gentleman  requested  my  assistance  one 
afternoon  to  look  up  some  information  he  desired.  He 
was  tall  and  massively  built,  bald,  round  faced,  of  ruddy 
complexion  and  wore  a  silk  hat  and  a  short  skirted  frock 
coat.  His  blue  eye  had  a  pleasant,  jolly  expression,  half 
boyish,  but  shrewd;  his  manner  was  brisk  and  offhand. 
I  should  have  taken  him  for  a  Yankee  sea  captain  rather 
than  a  literary  man,  but  for  his  thoroughly  correct  and 
grammatical  English.  He  seemed  pleased  with  my  at- 
tentions for,  as  he  went  away,  he  said  to  me,  "I  should 
be  very  glad  to  see  you  again ;  call  and  see  me  any  eve- 
ning; I  live  at  such  a  number  Hudson  Street."  I  thanked 
him  heartily,  but  as  I  saw  he  was  a  man  of  some  conse- 
quence, hesitated  to  ask  his  name.  But  as  soon  as  he  had 
gone  I  inquired  of  a  bystander  who  it  was,  and  was  sur- 
prised and  delighted  to  hear  that  it  was  no  less  a  person 
than  John  Godfrey  Saxe,  whose  humorous  and  society 
poems  I  had  learned  to  admire  while  I  was  yet  a  boy.  In 
this  unconventional  way  began,  what  I  think  became  a 
genuine  friendship  on  both  sides.  My  frequent  visits  to 
the  poet's  house  after  that  occasion,  and  the  genial  society 


182 


of  himself  and  his  pleasant  famil}^  and  the  friends  I  met 
there,  formed  one  of  the  pleasantest  features  of  my  life 
in  Albany. 

Saxe  was  a  man  of  the  utmost  bonhommie.  There  was 
nothing  airy  about  him,  and  I  never  discerned  the  slight- 
est taint  of  malice  in  his  nature ;  none  of  the  arrogance  or 
hauteur  one  finds  too  often  among  successful  authors  and 
artists.  That  Saxe  was  vain  in  a  certain  boyish  way  I 
do  not  deny.  But  in  his  case  it  was  a  harmless  vanity 
altogether  unattended  by  jealousy.  He  never  spoke  dis- 
paragingly of  his  fellow  craftsmen  in  letters.  With  this 
open  simplicity,  however,  Saxe  combined  Yankee  shrewd- 
ness in  making  and  keeping  money,  and  keen  penetration 
into  the  superficial  traits  of  social  life  and  the  foibles  of 
liunian  nature.  He  was  not  a  deep  thinker,  but  what  he  saw, 
he  saw  clearly,  and  what  he  said  was  said  with  perfect  di- 
rectness, and  limpidity ;  he  respected  his  art,  and  studied 
for  a  harmonious,  finished,  and  classical  style.  His  ver- 
sification is  always  agreeable  and  carefully  modulated 
to  the  subject.  In  the  choice  of  diction  there  was  no  re- 
dundancy. With  Horatian  skill,  he  used  precisely  the  word 
that  would  convey  his  meaning.  His  best  pieces  possessed 
a  rounded  completeness  that  renders  them  consummate 
works  of  art;  and  yet  all  is  so  easy,  simple,  direct,  that 
the  reader  is  unconscious  of  the  art.  As  a  literary  artist 
Saxe  has  no  superiors  in  American  poetry.  His  nearest 
rivals  on  this  score  are  Holmes,  Aldrich  and  Poe.  His 
sense  of  humor,  and  of  the  power  to  use  language  for  the 
just  expression  of  his  ideal  was  equal  to  Holmes,  his  satir- 
ical sense  was  greater,  although  in  affluence  of  fancy  and  in 
intellectual  scope  and  versatility,  Saxe  was  of  course  in- 
ferior to  the  ffenial  "Professor  of  the  Breakfast  Table." 


183 


As  an  example  of  diction,  thought  and  rhythm  working  to- 
gether in  perfect  harmony,  the  ideal  of  style,  what  could 
be  finer  than  Saxe's  The  Mourner  a  la  Mode?  I  have 
heard  him  read  it,  and  he  did  it  admirably.  He  was  what 
few  poets  are,  an  easy,  graceful,  eloquent  reader  of 
poetry;  with  no  singsong  or  false  emphasis,  his  voice  was 
thoroughly  attuned  to  the  mechanism  and  the  sense. 

Saxe's  unconventional  freedom  of  manner  was  il- 
lustrated by  an  amusing  incident  which  occurred  when  I 
met  him  one  day  on  my  way  to  dinner.  He  was  hurry- 
ing down  Eagle  Street  when  he  spied  me. 

"Here,  Benjamin,"  said  he,  "sit  right  down  here  on 
this  doorstep ;  I'm  on  my  way  to  catch  the  train  to  New 
York;  but  I've  got  time  to  show  you  just  the  funniest 
thing  you  ever  saw." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  sat  down  without  re- 
gard to  the  publicity  of  the  spot,  and  pulled  out  of  his 
pocket  the  manuscript  of  his  Herr  Van  Stopplenose, 
which  he  had  just  completed  and  was  taking  to  the  pub- 
lisher. The  poem,  if  such  it  could  be  called,  was  a  comical 
skit  composed  to  accompany  some  farcical  designs  by 
Busch  of  Munich,  who  was  just  beginning  to  attract  at- 
tention. Saxe  read  it  entirely  through  to  me,  and  was 
as  much  amused  as  a  lad  with  a  new  whistle.  As  he  put  it 
back  in  his  pocket  and  started  again  for  the  train,  he 
said,  "I'll  give  you  a  copy  when  it  is  published,"  and  he 
remembered  his  promise,  which  is  more  than  some  authors 
do  under  similar  circumstances. 

This  rare  bit  of  inspiration  was  written  at  Bellows  Falls, 
Vt.  in  the  summer  of  1852  by  a  then  unknown  poet,  John 
G.  Saxe.  A  beautiful  young  lady  asked  him  for  a  line  in 
his  autograph  for  rememberance  sake,  when,  tearing  off  the 


184 


blank  half  sheet  of  a  note  he  had  just  received,  he  wrote: 

"My  dearest  Sarah, 

Sometimes  tax 

Your  sack  of  thoughts 

With  thoughts  of  Saxe." 

Like  many  authors  of  mercurial  disposition  and  ready 
flow  of  ideas,  Mr.  Saxe  was  an  affluent  talker,  conversa- 
tionalist I  can  hardly  call  him,  for  he  enjoyed  monopoliz- 
ing the  conversation.  But  one  could  readily  forgive  him 
this  trait,  as  he  used  such  exceptionally  simple,  correct 
English,  free,  too,  from  slang  or  colloquialisms  of  the  day, 
and  what  he  had  to  say  held  one  spellbound.  He  did  not 
go  into  abstruse  subjects,  he  ignored  politics,  avoided 
gossip,  and  did  not  harangue  like  Coleridge  or  INIacaulay. 
He  was  especially  happy  as  a  raconteur.  His  usual  theme 
was  human  life,  of  which  he  was  a  sharp  observer.  He  il- 
lustrated his  remarks  by  ancedotes,  one  suggesting  an- 
other, humorous  or  pathetic,  and  sparkling  with  wit  or 
apt  quotations.  Sometimes,  also,  he  favored  us  with  his 
literary  opinions,  in  which  he  showed  that  he  was  well 
versed  in  belles  lettres  of  all  ages.  If  one  could  not  ac- 
cept all  his  conclusions  on  that  subject  one  always  found 
them  scholarly  and  suggestive.  Take  him  for  all  in  all, 
I  have  never  heard  a  more  delightful  talker  of  the  mas- 
culine sex,  than  John  G.  Saxe. 

I  recall  here  a  very  amusing  incident  that  occurred  one 
evening  at  his  house.  When  I  arrived  I  found  what  was 
very  unusual,  that  Mr.  Saxe  was  dumb,  while  the  con- 
versation was  "personally  conducted"  by  Mr.  Williams, 
editor  of  the  Albany  Evening  Journal.  Williams  had 
just  returned  from  a  trip  abroad,  which  was  more  of  an 
event  in  the  sixties  than  it  is  now;  he  Avas  also  a  man  who 


185 


liked  to  do  something  of  the  talking  himself.  On  this  oc- 
casion he  was  primetl  with  something  fresher  than  the 
polemics  of  political  factions.  As  he  knew  Saxe's  method 
of  old,  he  immediately  installed  himself  as  the  lion  of  the 
evening  and  general  purveyor  of  talk,  which  he  was  the 
better  able  to  do,  as  an  eligible  bachelor.  Starting  out 
with  a  detailed  account  of  his  journey,  he  soon  gathered 
the  ladies  about  him.  Having  got  the  lead,  he  held  on 
manfully  through  England,  France  and  Germany  to 
Italy  and  the  Mediterranean.  Saxe,  in  the  meantime,  (his 
occupation  gone),  strode  up  and  down  the  drawing  room 
disconsolately,  rubbing  his  bald  crown,  and  vainly  watch- 
ing for  an  opening  whereby  to  repossess  himself  of  his 
lost  lead.  I  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  must 
admit  that  I  was  intensely  amused.  Finally,  in  the  course 
of  his  wanderings,  Williams  reached  Smyrna.  Knowing 
that  I  had  been  abroad  in  the  East,  he  turned  to  me  and 
airily  inquired,  "By  the  way,  Mr.  Benjamin,  in  the  course 
of  your  travels  did  you  ever  happen  to  touch  at  Smyrna  ?" 
Willing  to  give  Saxe  a  chance,  I  replied  as  dryl}'  as  pos- 
sible, "I  lived  there  seven  years."  Saxe  burst  into  an  un- 
controllable peal  of  laughter  in  which  all  joined,  for  it  was 
evident  that  Williams  would  now  have  to  proceed  cau- 
tiously in  the  presence  of  one  who  knew  the  Levant  so 
thoroughly,  and  without  giving  Williams  an  instant  to 
recover  himself,  proceeded  to  relate  an  incident  suggested 
by  what  I  had  said,  in  reply.  It  referred  to  Miss  Wads- 
worth  when  she  was  in  England  while  her  family  were  still 
vast  landholders  in  western  New  York.  One  evening  at  a 
social  function,  an  English  lady  said  to  her,  "Miss  Wads- 
worth,  in  your  travels  about  America  did  you  ever  happen 
to  see  the  Falls  of  Niagara?"    "Madame,  I  oxen  them,"  re- 


186 


plied  Miss  Wadsworth.  Of  course  Saxe  found  that  this 
story  suggested  another,  and  poor  Williams  never  got  be- 
yond Smyrna  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

I  can  say  from  a  varied  experience,  that  although  in- 
fluence is  not  universally  essential  for  admittance  to  a 
prominent  periodical,  yet  I  must  admit  that  in  too  many 
instances  a  new  writer  must  wait  a  long  time  unless  he  has 
a  friend  at  court  to  turn  the  scale  in  his  favor.  Editors 
deny  this,  but  I  happen  to  know  it  to  be  a  fact.  '"Kiss- 
ing goes  by  favor"  at  the  outset  of  an  author's  career,  no 
less  than  in  other  pursuits. 

I  once  wrote  an  article  on  Cemeteries,  that  had  a  curious 
experience  which  is  worth  relating.  It  was  written  when  I 
had  abundant  leisure,  and  had  a  distinct  purpose  to  pre- 
pare magazine  articles  on  a  purely  literary  character, 
rather  than  such  as  simply  convey  information  or  discuss 
ethical  and  economic  or  social  and  political  topics,  which 
are  now  mostly  in  demand.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  no  article 
of  the  length  or  cast  of  my  paper,  could  now  find  entrance 
to  any  periodical  published  in  America.  I  was  steeped 
in  book  lore.  I  had  been  browsing  among  such  authors  as 
Plutarch,  in  his  Morals,  Montaigne,  Burton,  Sir 
Thomas  Browne,  Pascual,  Izaak  Walton,  Donne,  Jeremy 
Taylor,  Joinville,  Malory,  and  the  like,  and  although  not 
formally  striving  to  copy  any  of  them,  my  thought  in 
those  days  followed  somewhat  similar  channels.  My  pen 
rambled  discursively  from  one  point  to  another,  I  gave 
the  rein  to  fancy,  quoted  abundantly  from  authors  of 
every  age,  and  wrote  with  intense  feeling. 

I  sent  the  above  article  to  the  Atlantic  Monthly, 
which  returned  it  with  a  courteous  explanation  that  it 
was  liked  and  woidd  liave  been  accepted  but  for  the  ac- 


187 


ceptance  of  another  article  on  the  same  subject.  Then  I 
sent  it  to  Harper's  Monthly,  which  returned  it  with  a 
similar  reply.  After  this  second  failure  I  sent  it  to  the 
Knickerbocker  Magazine.  Receiving  no  reply  after 
several  weeks,  I  called  on  the  editor,  ]\Ir.  Louis  Gaylord 
Clark,  who  offered  me  a  seat  with  great  politeness. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  also  had  received  an  article  on 
this  subject;  thus  three  articles  on  the  gruesome  question 
of  cemeteries  were  knocking  at  the  editorial  doors,  at 
the  same  time  with  mine.  INIr.  Clark  stated  that  he  liked 
mine  so  much  better  than  the  one  he  had  accepted,  that 
he  asked  permission  to  retain  it  awhile,  as  he  might  per- 
haps see  his  way  to  publish  both  articles.  Eventually  he 
returned  mine,  and  it  finally  came  out  in  Harper's 
Magazine,  by  Mr.  Saxe's  kind  interposition. 

Although,  as  a  librarian,  I  was  leading  a  quasi  literary 
life  at  Albany,  yet  there  was  another  side  of  it  too  scarcely 
less  interesting  to  me.  Thrown  much  among  law  students, 
I  continued  my  reading  of  law  in  my  leisure  moments,  and 
was  inevitably  drawn  into  the  consideration  of  the  politi- 
cal questions  at  that  time  agitating  the  country.  Albany 
was  then  a  great  centre  for  the  movement  of  troops  and 
the  determination  of  measures  affecting  the  conduct  of  the 
Civil  War.  Whoever  was  in  the  slightest  way  connected 
with  the  State  government  was  brought  into  actual  con- 
tact with  these  movements,  met  many  of  the  chief  actors 
on  this  arena,  and  heard  much  that  was  going  on  below 
the  surface  of  events.  Next  to  Washington  there  was  not 
then  in  the  United  States  such  a  political  vortex  as  Al- 
bany. The  fiery  passions  of  the  stupendous  conflict,  the 
intrigues,  the  selfishness,  the  self-abnegating  patriotism, 
the  treason,  the  pathos,  the  pettiness,  the  grandeur,  the 


188 


suffering,  and  the  triumph  of  humanity,  were  all  displayed 
in  bold  relief  on  that  busy  provincial  theatre  in  those  stir- 
ring days  which  so  many  now  seem  anxious  to  forget,  but 
which  no  one  who  was  in  the  midst  of  them,  can  ever  for- 
get to  this  time. 

The  capture  of  Fort  Donaldson,  made  an  indelible  im- 
pression on  my  memory.  It  was  the  first  important  move- 
ment of  the  war  that  indicated  distinct  moral  courage 
combined  with  military  genius.  From  that  day,  I  looked 
on  General  Grant  as  the  "coming  man"  of  whom  the 
country  was  in  such  sore  need.  The  prisoners  were 
sent  to  Elmira,  and  passed  through  Albany.  I  might 
easily  have  obtained  a  commission  in  the  army  as  was 
distinctly  hinted  to  me.  It  was  useless  to  think  of  it, 
however,  at  that  time.  For  my  brother  had  been  for  sev- 
eral campaigns  connected  with  the  army  of  the  Potomac 
and  in  the  thick  of  the  fighting.  My  widowed  mother  was 
vuiwilling  to  sacrifice  both  her  sons,  after  losing  four  chil- 
dren already,  and  exacted  from  me,  a  solemn  promise  not 
to  join  the  army  at  least  until  the  necessity  for  troops 
became  more  imperative.  But  when  the  draft  came,  I 
was  drawn  and  assigned  to  a  regiment.  Considering  this, 
as  destiny,  I  made  no  attempt  to  procure  a  substitute. 
For  some  reason  into  which,  however,  I  did  not  inquire,  I 
was  never  summoned  into  the  field.  However,  I  gave  $550,  a 
sum  I  had  saved  by  out  of  my  salary,  towards  recruiting 
several  companies  of  the  regiment  called  the  Gris'^vold  Cav- 
alry, which  distinguished  itself  in  Sheridan's  command. 
Recruiting,  like  politics,  requires  money  for  offices,  travel- 
ling, etc.  When  the  wounded  were  brought  from  the  field 
to  the  hospitals  at  Albany,  I  volunteered  my  services  for 
night  watching,  and  in  that  way  contributed  my  quota  to 


189 


the  war.  Party  spirit  had  now  assumed  the  ascendant 
in  the  Democratic  Party,  and  this  became  evident  at 
Albany  in  a  very  marked  degree.  From  all  I  heard 
talked  about  me,  Gov.  Seymour,  who  has  been  so  much 
blamed,  merely  represented  the  genuine  sentiment  of  the 
majority  of  his  Party.  He  was  of  a  timorous  nature,  and 
became  a  traitor  to  the  best  interests  of  his  country,  with- 
out the  boldness,  that  successful  treason  demands.  Gov. 
Seymour  had  a  kindly  sympathetic  nature  and  his  heart 
was  better  than  his  head.  The  chief  agent  of  the  "under 
ground  railroad"  who  had  aided  hundreds  of  fugitive 
slaves  to  Canada  told  me  privately  as  a  remarkable  fact, 
that  "Seymour  was  one  of  the  best  friends,  of  the  poor 
fugitives,  at  the  very  time,  when  his  political  influence  was 
thrown  entirely  on  the  side  of  the  slave-holders."  Many 
times  when  the  cause,  or  some  slave  had  need  of  funds, 
Seymour  had,  with  ready  sympathy,  the  agent  told  me,  ad- 
vanced money  from  his  own  purse.  The  governor  was  a 
cousin  of  my  father,  and  I  am  glad  to  remember  this.  In 
all  his  instincts  he  was  a  refined  man  and  a  gentleman,  but 
for  that  matter  so,  it  is  said,  is  the  Devil.  His  face  was 
handsome,  but  I  thought  weak  and  insincere. 

It  was  during  his  administration  that  one  of  the  bitter- 
est political  contests  in  history  (for  speakership  of  the 
House),  took  place,  henchmen  of  Tammany  flourished 
their  revolvers  in  the  legislative  chamber  to  intimidate 
unflinching  Republicans,  who  finally  (the  end  came  sud- 
denly) won  their  cause  by  one  vote  of  a  Democrat,  who  had 
been  bribed  to  vote  with  them,  by  promise  of  the  speaker- 
ship. 

Callicott  was  a  good-looking  man,  about  forty-five,  with 
brown  eyes,  jet  black  beard  and  ruddy  complexion.     He 


190 


appeared  somewhat  embarrassed  as  well  he  might  be,  but 
he  afterward  filled  the  office  with  some  ability,  though  never 
re-elected. 

The  swearing  that  took  place  on  the  train  to  New  York 
that  night,  it  is  said  was  something  absolutely  phenomenal. 
My  young  trust  in  an  overruling  Providence,  T  confess 
received  a  hard  wrench  at  this  time,  but  I  reasoned  that 
it  was  apparently  essential  to  the  Union,  that  the  Repub- 
licans should  win,  and  the  universe  was  governed  by  a 
Power  evidently  willing  to  do  evil  that  good  might  come. 
From  that  day  I  have  been  specially  observant  of  in- 
stances of  good  resulting  from  moral  evil,  and  my  judg- 
ment of  some  actions,  held  to  be  sinful,  or  inexcusable,  has 
been  greatly  modified.  Evil  seems  often  to  be  encouraged 
for  what  the  world  calls  "Progress"  which  is  really  the 
evolution  or  change,  which  seems  to  be  distinctly  a  factor 
in  the  development  of  the  race.  Man's  responsibility 
must  therefore  be  far  less,  than  creeds  and  theologians 
assume. 

Soon  after  the  political  troubles  at  Albany,  the  Demo- 
cratic politicians  gave  General  McClellan,  "little  ]Mac,"  a 
grand  ovation  there.  I  shook  hands  with  him  and  noticed 
that  his  figure  was  of  medium  size,  compact  and  firm,  that 
of  a  man  of  action,  a  soldier,  but  I  did  not  like  the  face. 
It  was  kindly,  suggestive  of  amiability,  but  it  had  no 
nobility,  and  no  suggestion  of  reserve  power,  no  unused 
resources.  The  eyes  were  deep-set  and  near  together,  the 
hair  inclined  to  grow  from  the  low  forehead,  stiff  and  up- 
wards (often  a  sign  of  intense  self-esteem).  Seymour  and 
McClellan  received  "the  boys"  as  they  passed  the  Capitol 
that  night  with  their  torches,  and  bugles  rent  the  air. 

Among  other  persons  I  met  at  Albany  who  have  since 

191 
13 


achieved  wide  repute  were  Chauncey  Depew,  and  Mr.  An- 
drew White,  who  became  president  of  Cornell  University 
and  Ambassador  to  Germany,  but  at  that  time  was  serv- 
ing his  first  term  in  the  State  Senate.  He  was  a  man  of  re- 
fined address  and  intelligent  expression,  but  he  gave  the 
impression  of  being  greatly  indebted  to  affluent  circum- 
stances and  influence  for  his  early  rise  to  position.  His 
career  was  creditable  without  being  in  any  way  great. 

Depew  on  the  other  hand  owed  his  success  to  a  certain 
intellectual  alertness,  and  great  tact,  combined  with  a 
knowledge  of  men,  rather  than  books.  Deteranination, 
hope,  self-confidence  and  health  were  all  evident  early  in 
this  aspirant  for  fame.  I  well  remember  his  tall,  lithe, 
slender  figure,  his  blonde,  hyacinthine  hair  and  whiskers, 
his  bright,  blue  eyes,  and  kindly  manners  all  that  went  to 
make  up  the  successful  aspirant  for  political  honors. 


192 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EARLY    MARRIAGE     AND     RETURN     TO     THE 

LEVANT. 

It  was  with  health  impaired  by  the  steady  confinement 
at  the  State  Library,  ill  suited  to  one  of  my  independent 
disposition,  that  I  left  Albany  after  a  residence  there  of 
three  years.  I  retired  to  Brookfield,  I  married  Clara 
Stowell,  a  woman  of  very  lovable  character  and  of  good 
family,  and  thus  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven  (my  wife 
eighteen)  entered  on  another  distinct  phase  of  my  life. 
Later  on,  unexpected  opportunities  for  the  development 
of  latent  powers  were  gradually  opened  to  me.  But  at 
that  especial  time,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  engaged  in 
a  hopeless  struggle  for  recognition.  I  placed  an  article 
in  the  North  American  Review,  then  a  purely  literary  pub- 
lication, another  in  the  New  Englander,  and  occasionally 
a  poem  in  the  Independent  and  other  papers.  Otherwise 
my  articles  came  back  to  me  with  remorseless  regularity. 
What  made  the  struggle  harder,  I  received  but  scant  en- 
couragement among  some  of  my  own  family.  As  I  was 
naturally  inclined  to  doubt  myself,  even  wdien  I  had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  abandoning  what  I  had  undertaken, 
I  felt  these  obstacles  keenly,  not  perceiving  as  yet,  that 
success  in  art  or  letters  is  often  of  very  slow  achievement, 

193 


conditioned  on  indomitable  resolution.  My  marriage  had 
been  one  of  esteem  and  affection,  and  later  one  child,  a 
daughter  was  born  to  us. 

This  continued  disappointment  following  the  close  con- 
finement at  the  State  Library  finally  told  on  my  nerves ; 
and  I  had  reached  a  highly  sensitive  condition  one  morn- 
ing when  I  called  at  my  brother-in-law's  house  nearby. 
Perceiving  my  state,  he  offered  me  a  glass  of  sherry. 
Naturally  I  have  a  strong  head  for  liquors  and  was  not  un- 
accustomed to  them  at  that  time.  But  this  glass  acted 
like  a  spark  on  gunpowder.  I  never  experienced  such  a 
result  before  or  since.  I  hastened  home,  went  to  bed  and 
sent  for  the  doctor.  The  stores  of  my  memory  were  un- 
locked and  rushed  forth  as  when  the  floodgates  of  a  reser- 
voir burst  open.  I  suffered  no  actual  pain  at  the  time, 
but  the  abnormal  excitement  was  akin  to  pain.  Every 
scene  of  my  past  life,  every  person,  every  sound,  returned 
to  me  with  the  vividness  of  reality.  My  brain  was  in  the 
condition  described  by  those  who  have  narrowly  escaped 
drowning;  only  this  was  prolonged  for  several  days. 
After  the  excitement  was  allayed,  and  the  action  of  mem- 
ory was  restored  to  its  normal  condition,  an  alarming  ex- 
haustion supervened.  For  three  months  I  did  not  put  my 
foot  on  the  floor.  Then  at  last  I  began  to  rally.  Ap- 
petite returned ;  I  was  able  to  read,  and  in  a  few  days  took 
rides  in  the  neighborhood.  But  the  power  of  sleep  contin- 
ued impaired.  Bromide  of  potassium,  whose  virtues  had 
recently  been  discovered,  proved  exactly  the  remedy  I  re- 
quired. It  agreed  with  me  admirably ;  and  although  I 
took  it  for  nearly  a  year,  it  produced  no  permanent  habit, 
perhaps,  because  I  used  it  with  intelligence  and  self-con- 
trol. 


194 


But  although  able  to  get  about  again  and  to  sleep  some 
by  the  aid  of  that  drug,  my  system  had  become  so  shat- 
tered it  was  doubtful  whether  I  should  ever  be  good  for 
much  again.  The  physicians  advised  a  long  rest  and  com- 
plete rebuilding  of  my  constitution.  My  old  longing  for 
the  sea  came  back  to  me.  I  took  passage  in  the  fine  ship 
John  Bright,  2,000  tons.  We  caught  a  stiff  sou'wester  at 
Sandy  Hook,  and  carried  it  across  the  Atlantic.  The  coast 
of  Ireland  was  sighted  in  fourteen  days  ;  I  have  been  lucky 
in  making  some  of  the  smartest  sailing  voyages  on  record. 
But  we  came  near  to  grief  the  following  morning.  The 
wind  had  freshened  into  a  gale  and  we  were  running  free 
under  close  reefed  topsails  and  foresail.  It  was  thick 
and  we  could  not  see  a  ship's  length  ahead  when  the  mist 
parted  a  moment,  and  to  our  horror  the  dread  Coningberg 
reef  was  discovered  dead  ahead,  with  vast  surges  breaking 
over  it.  In  less  than  five  minutes  our  ship  would  have 
struck,  and  gone  to  pieces  and  every  soul  been  lost.  At 
the  cry,  "Breakers  ahead !"  the  breakfast  table  was 
cleared,  Captain  Dewar  sprang  up  the  companion-way  at 
a  bound,  and  rang  out  his  orders  in  quick  succession.  The 
helm  was  put  down,  the  yards  braced  sharp  up  and  the 
mainsail  spread  as  fast  as  I  can  describe  it.  The  old 
ship  buried  her  lee  scuppers  and  her  masts  bent  like 
whalebones.  Happily  everything  held,  and  the  vessel 
just  barely  cleared  the  lightship,  the  lightkeepers  waving 
their  hands  to  us  to  keep  clear  of  them,  and  looking  white 
as  the  huge  fabric  thundered  by  tossing  the  foam  from 
her  bow  on  their  deck.  It  was  a  thrilling  scene,  a  mar- 
velous exhibition  of  seamanship,  and  one  of  the  closest  of 
the  many  narrow  escapes  I  had  had.  We  moored  at  the 
Liverpool  docks  in  just  sixteen  days  out  from  Sandy 
Hook. 

195 


This  was  my  first  visit  to  England,  the  land  of  my  an- 
cestors and  I  was  filled  with  eager  longing  to  see  its  lovely 
scenery,  and  historic  and  legendary  scenes.  But  as  my 
ultimate  destination  was  Constantinople,  and  the  scenes 
of  my  early  life,  from  which  I  had  been  absent  ten  years, 
I  tarried  in  England  only  three  weeks  on  this  occasion. 
Finding  no  sailing  ship  eligible  for  passengers  going  at 
that  time  (as  I  had  hoped),  I  took  the  slowest  steamer 
bound  to  Constantinople,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the 
agent  and  captain,  who  never  before  heard  of  a  Yankee 
looking  for  a  slow  ship. 

This  was  the  La  Plata,  and  we  were  out  twenty  days. 
When  we  reached  Malta,  we  learned  people  were  dying 
rapidly  of  cholera.  I  decided  to  proceed  in  the  La  Plata. 
My  reason  for  so  deciding  was,  that  if  destined  to  die  by 
cholera,  it  was  preferable  at  Constantinople  among 
friends,  where  also  I  could  be  buried  beside  my  father 
and  sisters,  than  among  strangers  at  Malta.  The 
morning  after  we  left  Valetta  I  had  all  the  premonitory 
symptoms  of  cholera,  but  I  had  the  needful  remedies  and 
knew  how  to  treat  it;  having  been  exposed  to  it  in  former 
years.  Hence  I  checked  the  attack  in  time,  and  without 
alarming  those  on  board.  Fear  has  much  to  do  with  ag- 
gravating the  symptoms  of  the  fell  disease,  at  least  in 
many  cases.  Therefore  I  turned  aside  all  questions  about 
my  condition  as  of  no  moment,  and  seeing  me  so  calm  the 
others  forgot  all  about  the  matter. 

When  we  reached  Constantinople  the  victims  of  the 
epidemic  were  averaging  some  two  thousand  per  diem,  and 
the  streets  were  full  of  hurried  funerals.  A  pall  seemed 
to  brood  over  the  vast  imperial  capital.  For  several 
days,  even  with  the  utmost  care,  I  was  unable  to  avoid  a 


196 


constant  griping  colic  and  tendency  to  diarrhoea.  That 
I  escaped  with  my  hfe  seems  marvelous  to  me.  The 
scourge  came  to  a  climax  ^nth  a  turn  of  the  wind  to  the 
north,  and  terminated  altogether  two  or  three  weeks  after 
my  arrival,  having  destroyed  nearly  50,000  people. 

When  the  impression  of  these  dreadful  scenes  had  in  a 
measure  passed  away,  I  found  the  picturesque  and  poetic 
aspects  of  Constantinople  and  the  Bosphorus  as  enchant- 
ing as  memory  had  pictured  them,  and  the  climate  as  in- 
vigorating as  I  had  hoped,  and  I  lingered  there  for  several 
months.  One  of  the  most  interesting  incidents  of  this  so- 
journ to  Constantinople  was  a  visit  to  the  summer  resi- 
dence of  Dr.  Millingen  at  the  suburban  village  of  Buyuk- 
dere.  The  family  was  charming  and  the  location  was  su- 
perb. Mrs.  Millingen,  his  third  wife,  was  an  amiable 
Swiss  lady,  and  her  husband  was  one  of  the  most  notable 
characters  at  the  capital.  He  began  his  career  as  one  of 
the  medical  suite  of  Lord  Byron,  whom  he  attended  during 
the  brief  but  romantic  course  of  the  poet  in  Greece,  when 
he  ended  his  days  at  Missolonghi.  Dr.  Millingen  informed 
me  that  his  opinion  of  Byron's  character  was  much 
higher  than  that  of  many ;  and  that  he  had  certain  revela- 
tions to  make  on  that  subject  in  the  autobiography  that 
was  to  be  published  after  his  death.  But  this  work,  which 
would  doubtless  have  been  of  much  value  on  another  sub- 
ject as  Avell,  was  unfortunately  burned  in  the  last  great 
fire  of  Constantinople,  and  the  doctor  was  then  too  old  to 
re-write  it. 

At  the  time  that  I  knew  Dr.  Millingen  he  was  one  of 
the  physicians  of  the  royal  palace  at  Constantinople,  a 
position  he  held  under  two  successive  reigns.  He  had  the 
ear    of   the    sovereign,    and   possessed    great    influence    at 


197 


court.  He  was  a  particular  favorite  with  Abdul  Mejid, 
a  kind,  well-dispositioned  man ;  but  like  many  good 
hearted  Oriental  monarchs,  hampered  by  his  environment, 
and  shocked  by  customs  and  prejudices  he  was  obliged  to 
observe  or  place  his  throne  and  life  In  jeopardy.  I  think 
it  was  largely  due  to  the  counsels  of  Dr.  Milllngen  that 
the  horrible  custom  was  abolished  which  condemned  the 
male  offspring  of  the  dynasty  to  the  bowstring  excepting 
the  heir  to  the  throne,  In  order  to  prevent  struggles  for 
the  succession.  The  bloody  career  of  Constantine  the 
Great  and  his  descendants,  and  other  similar  royal  trage- 
dies show  what  has  occasionally  been  produced  by  that 
cause  even  under  Christian  governments.  But  in  Turkey 
for  several  ages  it  was  an  unwritten  law  to  reduce  the 
number  of  possible  heirs  to  the  throne  by  violence.  This 
greM^  out  of  the  fact  that  the  succession  In  Oriental  coun- 
tries has  not  depended  on  primogeniture,  but  rather  on 
the  whim  or  will  of  the  monarch  or  the  ability  of  his  sons 
to  maintain  or  acquire  power ;  while  under  the  system  of 
polygamy  each  wife  became  a  rival  who  schemed  to  win 
the  crown  for  her  own  son.  I  well  remember  the  horror 
aroused  In  Smyrna  when  Khaleel  Pasha  came  there  as 
governor  and  the  tragedy  of  his  harem  became  common 
talk.  Sultan  Mahmoud  had  given  his  daughter  in  marriage 
to  Khaleel  Pasha  on  the  distinct  promise  that  If  she  should 
have  sons  they  should  be  allowed  to  live.  But  when  they 
arrived  at  the  period  of  youth,  her  royal  father,  in  view 
of  the  disturbed  state  of  the  empire  and  of  his  own  ap- 
proaching demise,  ordered  them  to  be  torn  from  their 
mother's  arms  and  strangled.  Execrating  the  day  she 
was  born  a  princess,  she  wasted  away  and  died  of  grief. 
Verily  there  is  nothing  perfect,  and  every  boon  of  destiny 
has  Its  shadow! 

198 


It  was  the  duty  of  Dr.  Millingen  to  pass  two  nights 
of  the  week  at  the  palace,  in  readiness  to  be  summoned 
at  any  moment  to  attend  to  some  one  of  the  Sultan's 
numerous  family.  Among  so  many  wives,  concubines,  and 
children,  medical  advice  was  often  in  request.  Perhaps 
His  Majesty  himself  desired  an  opiate  to  sleep  away  the 
cares  of  state,  or  sought  relief  by  chatting  with  a  man  of 
intelligence,  who  saw  the  world  from  the  outside  and  in 
whose  discretion  he  could  confide.  Dr.  Millingen  was  one 
of  the  few  about  the  court  whose  integrity  was  beyond 
the  shadow  of  doubt. 

I  remember  calling  to  see  him  at  the  palace  with  refer- 
ence to  certain  business  of  an  American  citizen.  It  was 
about  ten  o'clock  at  night.  I  was  conducted  past  the 
sentries  and  a  horde  of  underlings  from  one  passage  to 
another,  until  I  found  him  in  a  marble  pavilion,  luxurious- 
ly furnished  in  Oriental  style,  with  sumptuous  rugs  and 
portieres  and  richly  embroidered  cushions.  A  pleasant 
light  from  olive  oil  lamps  suspended  in  carved  bronze 
sconces  diffused  a  mild  glow  about  the  apartment.  Sever- 
al medical  aides  were  also  there.  I  found  Dr.  Millingen 
reclining  on  a  snug  corner  of  the  ample  divan  reading 
history  and  smoking  a  narghile.  When  he  saw  me  he 
bade  me  be  seated  beside  him  and  ordered  coffee  and  an- 
other pipe.  After  I  had  stated  my  message  we  had  a 
delightful  chat  on  literary  and  archaeological  matters. 
The  doctor  was  full  of  rare  information  and  no  one  could 
be  with  him  ten  minutes  without  going  away  the  richer 
in  knowledge.  I  may  add  that  in  a  place  like  Constanti- 
nople, where  men  of  all  nations  meet,  where  the  affairs 
of  all  nations  are  discussed,  and  where  the  throng  of 
associations  and  antiquities  render  the  past  a  living  topic 


199 


scarcely  less  than  the  present,  conversation  is  often  larger, 
broader,  more  cosmopolitan,  and  more  informing  to  the 
active  mind  than  in  places  where  thought  is  centered  on 
what  is  local  and  provincial. 

Before  turning  my  face  homeward  again,  I  took  a  very 
enjoyable  trip  through  Bithynia.  I  went  by  steamer  to 
Iznik,  the  ancient  Nicomedia.  It  lies  on  a  steep  slope  on 
the  shores  of  the  Gulf  of  the  same  name.  Many  inter- 
esting antiquities  add  to  the  attractions  of  this  pictur- 
esque, thoroughly  characteristic  old  city,  a  city  celebrated 
as  the  residence  of  the  great  emperor  Diocletian,  as  well 
as  the  scene  of  great  pageants  and  appalling  tragedies. 

From  Nicomedia  I  started  on  horseback  accompanied 
by  a  Turkish  surigee  or  muleteer,  in  whom  I  placed  more 
confidence  than  if  he  had  belonged  to  any  other  race  in 
Turkey.  As  the  Turks  or  Osmanlis  reach  the  higher 
ranks  they  often  become  destitute  of  principle  or  self 
respect,  partly  because  of  contact  with  the  duplicity  of 
the  Christians  of  all  classes,  business  or  diplomatic ;  and 
partly  because  it  seems  to  be  chiefly  by  intrigue  that  they 
can  remain  in  power.  But  the  Turks  of  the  middle  or 
lower  classes  are  the  most  trustworthy  people  in  the  East, 
more  trustworthy  than  many  of  the  same  grades  in  Chris- 
tian lands.  It  was  my  purpose  to  overtake  Dr.  Justin 
Parsons,  who  had  started  on  his  annual  trip  a  day  or  two 
before  I  reached  Nicomedia. 

The  scenes  that  most  impressed  me  was  the  magnificent 
gorge  of  the  Sakarins,  through  which  marched  so  many 
great  armies  of  long  past  ages,  and  the  ruins  of  the  city 
of  Nicea,  where  the  famous  council  of  the  early  church 
enunciated  the  creed  that  still  binds  the  souls  of  so 
many  millions.     Although  deserted  except  by  a  few  shep- 


200 


herds,  the  walls  and  battlements  of  that  ancient  city  by 
the  Bithynian  lake  are  in  more  perfect  condition  than  of 
any  old  town  except  Carcassonne.  But  that  has  been  pre- 
served and  restored  by  the  French  government  as  a 
memorial  of  bygone  military  architecture;  whereas  the 
walls  of  Nicea,  warred  against  by  Roman,  Crusader,  and 
Osmanli,  have  been  left  unprotected  to  the  ravages  o^ 
time ;  but  in  this  case  time  has  treated  them  very  gently, 
and  nowhere  can  one  find  a  finer  existing  example  of  an- 
cient fortifications,  or  a  spectacle  much  more  inspiring 
than  that  cordon  of  ivy-draped  walls  on  the  shores  of  the 
blue  waves  of  Lake  Ascanius.  Fortunately  few  Euro- 
pean travellers  go  that  way  to  despoil  those  ruins,  and 
no  neighboring  town  exists  to  require  stones  torn  from  the 
noble  remains  of  Nicea. 

Proceeding  from  this  point  to  Brusa,  which  I  revisited 
for  the  third  time — it  is  curious  how  these  unexpected 
repetitions  occur  in  some  lives — I  returned  thence  to  Con- 
stantinople, and  sailed  for  Athens  and  Smyrna.  These 
visits  to  the  earliest  homes  of  my  life,  endeared  by  so 
many  sacred  recollections,  filled  my  soul  with  the  most 
tender   sentiments. 

In  the  Gulf  of  Lyons,  en  route  westward,  I  had  the  grim 
pleasure  of  encountering  for  once  in  my  life  a  genuine 
mistral  bloAving  from  the  Cevennes  with  a  fury  rarely 
equalled,  if  surpassed  at  sea.  Having  weathered  it  in 
safety,  I  flew  to  Paris,  where  I  remained  several  weeks 
revisiting  the  art  gallaries,  and  enlarging  some  of  my 
early  opinions  formed  of  the  people  during  the  visit  of 
1855.  Among  them,  this,  that  the  French  excel  all  others 
for  the  drawing-room  and  diplomacy,  as  their  language 
is  the  most  perfect  in  the  expression  of  intellectual  sub- 


201 


tillties,  and  the  refinement  of  social  courtesy ;  whereas  the 
English  language  and  people  are  the  synonym  of  elo- 
quence, directness  and  power. 

The  voyage  home  lasted  19  days,  during  twelve  of 
which  the  wind  blew  a  hurricane,  beating  down  the  waves 
to  a  flat  plain,  while  the  spray  flew  over  us  like  snow  on 
a  frozen  lake.  My  state-room  companions  were  a  Spanish 
West  Indian,  who  looked  like  a  pirate,  and  a  Jesuit  priest; 
both  I  found  very  entertaining.  Another  passenger  was 
a  Fenian  leader  going  to  America. 

Although  my  health  had  benefitted  by  my  trip  to  the 
Mediterranean,  yet  it  seemed  preferable  to  continue,  to- 
gether with  the  resumption  of  literary  work,  the  plan  I 
had  formed  of  rebuilding  my  constitution,  the  true  method 
in  my  opinion  for  repairing  an  impaired  nervous  system. 
Therefore  we  moved  to  Salem,  Massachusetts,  a  place 
whose  old  associations  and  quietude  were  wholly  to  my 
taste,  and  whose  bracing  ocean  air  would  prove  a  power- 
ful tonic.  A  pleasant,  comfortable  house,  near  the  water, 
was  secured,  and  the  next  thing  was  to  provide  myself 
with  a  sailboat.  It  was  a  small  keel  sloop  built  after  pro- 
portions suggested  by  myself  to  the  Herreshoffs  of  Bris- 
tol, wlio  were  just  beginning  to  acquire  their  now  world- 
wide reputation.  They  were  wholly  in  favor  of  centre- 
board boats  ;  but  I  stood  out  for  a  keel  boat,  as  the  best 
for  sea  sailing,  and  after  many  years  they  have  come 
around  so  far  as  to  abandon  the  centreboard  for  a  deep 
keel.  The  result  of  our  consultations  was  a  fast  and 
graceful  little  boat  called  the  Hilda;  she  gained  quite 
a  reputation  among  the  mosquito  fleet  of  Salem  Bay.  I 
have  owned  several  larger  boats  since  that  day,  but  never 
have   I   enjoyed   any   pleasure   craft    as    I   did    my   little 


202 


Hilda.  Six  months  of  the  year  I  sailed  about  the  waters 
from  Cape  Ann  to  Boston  Light  in  my  little  sloop,  often 
alone,  but  sometimes  taking  my  wife  and  others  with  me, 
who  heartily  entered  into  the  sport.  Perhaps  it  was  for 
this  reason  that  the  recollection  of  my  first  sailboat  con- 
tinues so  vivid.  After  the  day's  sail  I  would  return  home 
so  exhilarated  that  I  seem  to  myself  under  the  influence 
of  some  subtle  intoxication  that  stimulated  my  imagination 
almost  like  the  opium-eater's  poppied  drug.  I  was  one  of 
the  first  in  America  to  suggest  and  advocate  the  modi- 
fication of  the  sloop  rig  by  splitting  the  head  sail,  step- 
ping the  mast  farther  aft,  and  reducing  length  of  main 
boom,  which  the  late  Commodore  Centre  first  put  into 
practice  with  his  noted  iron  cutter,  the  Vindex. 

Captain  Brown,  a  Dane,  sometimes  accompanied  me 
on  my  cruises  down  the  coa§t,  as  crew  and  general  fac- 
totum (when  I  had  a  larger  boat)  as  he  was  unfitted  by 
the  diseases  of  a  hard  career,  to  take  charge  again  on 
long  "across  sea"  voyages.  He  was  a  weird  character, 
just  cut  out,  as  it  were,  for  one  of  Stephenson's  tales. 
His  life  was  a  mystery  beyond  the  fact  that  he  had  been 
in  the  African  trade.  He  had  undoubtedly  been  engaged 
at  one  time  in  the  Blackbird  or  slave  trade,  and  the 
recollections  of  it  haunted  him  as  Banquo's  ghost  worried 
the  brain  of  Macbeth.  I  have  seen  him  repeatedly,  when 
steering  on  a  mild  day,  wake  out  of  a  fit  of  musing  and 
shake  his  fist  at  some  imaginary  shape  in  the  water, 
cursing  and  growling,  "Get  down  there!  get  out  of  sight, 
damn  you !"  Once  I  asked  him  what  he  saw ;  he  gruffly 
replied,  "Nothing,  nothing;  I  was  only  just  a  dreaming." 
What  tales  of  horror  he  could  have  told !  He  had  a  hand- 
some wife  who  took  to  evil  ways  and  forsook  him.     Per- 


203 


haps  his  roughness  and  fierce  visions  drove  her  from  his 
bed.  Abandoning  her  husband  and  fair  young  daughter, 
she  drifted  to  New  York,  gradually  dropping  lower, 
until,  under  the  sobriquet  of  "Shakespeare,"  a  grey- 
haired  harridan,  she  was  murdered  in  a  West  Street  den. 
An  Algerine  called  Frenchy  was  sent  for  life  to  State's 
prison  for  the  crime;  but  who  really  committed  the  mur- 
der, undoubtedly  remains  an  insoluble  problem. 

During  my  winters  in  Salem,  while  the  Hilda  was  laid 
up,  I  did  an  enormous  amount  of  reading,  which  has 
proved  useful  to  me  in  later  years ;  and,  which,  added  to 
previous  reading,  has  so  greatly  aided  most  of  my  sub- 
sequent literary  work.  I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of 
my  memory  for  general  purposes,  as  it  is  of  the  useful 
sort  which  responds  readily  to  the  associations  of  ideas. 
The  library  of  the  Salem  Athenaeum,  as  conducted  at  that 
time,  proved  a  mine"  to  me.  In  a  small  provincial  town 
like  Salem,  before  the  modern  library  system  had  obtained 
in  this  country,  any  reputable  visitor  was  allowed  free 
use  of  the  books,  as  if  they  were  his  own,  and  I  would 
pass  entire  days  mousing  among  the  25,000  or  30,000 
miscellaneous  volumes  that  loaded  the  shelves  of  the 
Athenaeum.  As  most  of  these  works  were  quite  other 
than  recent,  some  of  them  rare,  one  may  perceive 
what  a  privilege  this  was.  I  also  wrote  and  studied  often 
in  my  own  quiet  room,  while  my  wife  sat  by  the  window 
with  her  needle  and  kept  me  company.  Taken  all  in  all, 
I  think  those  days  in  Salem  were  the  most  quietly  satis- 
factory of  my  life.  I  had  a  small  but  steady  income,  was 
free  from  money  worries  which  destroy  the  pleasure  of 
life,  and  which  later  handicapped  me  for  years.  My 
domestic  happiness  was  pure  and  unalloyed.     My  mother 


204 


and  family  lived  near  me.  I  could  cultivate  at  leisure 
my  literary  tastes,  for  I  used  my  pencil  in  those  days 
scarcely  less  than  the  pen,  and  carried  drawing  as  far 
as  I  could  go:  I  could  enjoy  to  the  full  the  sea  and  my 
favorite  sport  of  yachting,  and  my  health  was  again 
robust.  If  I  had  died  then,  having  perfect  health  and  so 
many  ways  of  enjoying  it,  I  could  have  accounted  my 
life  happy,  as  things  go  in  this  world,  even  if  not  bril- 
liantly successful  in  results.  But  we  are  not  always 
choosers  or  masters  of  our  destiny  notwithstanding  the 
bosh  uttered  by  shallow  thinkers  to  the  contrary.  "There 
is  a  destiny  that  shapes  our  ends,  rough  hew  them  as  we 
will."  Already  circumstances  were  shaping  that  were  to 
give  altogether  another  cast  to  my  life  and  character,  my 
aims,  hopes  and  fears,  and  altogether  different  spheres 
of  effort. 

Soon  after  returning  from  abroad  and  before  settling 
in  Salem,  I  had  published  a  smallish  volume  callerl  The 
Turk,  the  Greek,  or  Creeds,  Races,  and  Slavery  in  Greece, 
Turleij,  and  the  Isles  of  Greece.  The  title  was  too  big 
for  the  book.  While  not  destitute  for  merits,  one  of  which 
was  that  every  word  of  it  was  true  (which  is  more  than  can 
be  said  of  some  books  of  travel),  it  had  the  fatal  quality 
of  being  chiefly  composed  of  correspondence  to  the  news- 
papers, and  elsewhere,  hastily  put  together  to  meet  a 
fleeting  public  interest  aroused  by  "the  Cretan  rebellion. 
No  good  literature,  no  thorough  work,  can  come  from  an 
effort  to  meet  a  special  occasion,  or  at  least  only  rarely. 
Then  too,  the  book  suffered  from  too  great  familiarity 
with  the  subject.  Many  local  details,  such  as  no  mere 
traveller  can  learn  or  which  one  fresh  to  the  Orient,  would 
have  noted  at  once,  and  which  add  piquancy  to  a  work. 


205 


I  purposely  omitted  or  overlooked  simply  because  they 
were  so  obvious  to  me  that  I  fancied  they  would  be  trite 
to  others  likewise.  I  was  also  so  unsophisticated  as  to 
imagine  that  good  wine  needs  no  bush,  and  that  if  the 
book  had  merit  it  must  sell,  being  in  this  respect  unlike 
some  thrifty  authors,  who  pull  wires  in  every  possible  way 
to  attract  notice  to  their  books.  This,  of  course,  was 
not  what  is  called  business,  but  I  have  always  revolted 
against  anything  of  the  sort,  and  have  doubtless  suffered 
from  such  simplicity.  Anyway,  although  no  book  pub- 
lished in  America  for  years  has  met  so  flattering  a  re- 
ception from  the  public,  only  five  hundred  copies  were 
sold.  As  this  fact  was  not  known,  however,  outside  of 
the  firm  of  Hurd  and  Houghton,  the  publishers,  the  wide 
spread  notices  gave  me  a  certain  repute,  and  I  now  found 
the  periodicals  coming  to  me  for  articles  of  travel  and 
fiction,  the  latter  for  young  folks.  One  of  such,  published 
was  a  serial  called  Tom  Roper,  which  eventually  came 
out  in  book  form,  and  brought  me  several  hundred  dol- 
lars, although  in  my  opinion  far  inferior  to  the  former 
book  which  brought  me  not  a  cent ;  a  curious  instance  of 
the  crookedness  of  things.  To  some  of  these  papers  I 
added  illustrations  of  my  own.  I  learned  drawing  on  the 
wood,  and  might  have  succeeded  in  that  art  if  I  had  not 
found  it  trying  to  my  eyes,  which  have  always  been  weak 
and  hence  required  care.  Drawing  on  wood  obliged  me 
to  bend  over  closely  and  was  too  finiky,  circumscribed  as 
it  generally  was,  to  small  spaces.  After  photogravure 
and  process  work  came  into  vogue,  later,  I  was  able  to 
make  illustrations  by  broad  washes  or  monochrome  on 
canvas  which  were  photographed  on  the  wood  or  gelatine, 
and  I  received  good  prices  for  such  designs.      Thus,  by 


206 


the  time  I  left  Salem,  I  had  the  way  open  mto  the  periodi- 
cals and  was  able  to  add  very  materially  to  my  income. 
I  did  not  blind  myself  to  the  fact  that  much  of  this  sort 
of  work  could  not  be  strictly  classed  with  literature;  but 
I  hoped  it  might  lead  to  that,  and  at  intervals  I  wrote 
verses  or  articles  in  harmon}^  with  my  literary  tastes. 
For  my  pen  I  accepted  almost  everything  that  came  to 
hand  except  in  cases  which  were  clearly  out  of  my  prov- 
ince to  treat  with  justice,  a  course  which  I  have  declined 
in  my  painting,  in  which  I  have,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
clung  rigorously  to  the  rule  of  taking  few  commissions 
and  doing  only  what  was  spontaneous  and  original — the 
only  way  to  follow  art  in  the  right  spirit,  in  my  humble 
opinion.  I  may  add  here,  once  and  for  all,  that  some 
years  before  this  I  had  deliberately  decided  to  follow  no 
one  pursuit  but  to  be  guided  by  my  inclinations,  my  char- 
acter being  too  active  and  my  tastes  and  interests  too 
varied.  They  leaned  sometimes  to  one,  sometimes  to  an- 
other branch  of  effort,  without  abandoning  any  of  them 
permanently.  If  I  have  failed  of  achieving  the  position 
which  can  be  reached  generally  only  by  concentration  of 
effort,  on  the  other  hand  I  have  touched  life  at  more 
points,  by  this  course,  and  have  certainl}'  kept  my  feel- 
ings 3'Oung  and  my  mind  active  longer  than  if  I  had  fol- 
lowed one  line  of  energy  from  beginning  to  end. 

It  is  not  solely  the  unexpected  that  happens !  It 
is  also  the  unexpected  (and  often  seemingly  unimportant) 
that  turns  our  steps  unconsciously. this  or  that  way,  and 
leads  us  into  unforeseen  paths  of  destiny.  Strolling  along 
Essex  Street,  Salem,  I  noticed  a  clever  little  sea  piece 
in  the  window  of  a  mirror  and  art  shop.  On  inquiry  I 
learned  that  it  was  by  a  young  man  named  George  Mevan- 

207 
14 


jed  White,  who  was  struggling  to  make  his  way  in  his 
native  town.  Certainly  Salem  was  scarcely  the  place  for 
achieving  a  successful  art  career.  Observing  ray  interest, 
young  Shaw,  son  of  the  proprietor,  offered  to  introduce 
me  to  Mr.  White,  whose  studio  was  but  a  few  doors  dis- 
tant. I  found  a  modest  yet  self-respecting  young  man 
of  ardent  disposition  and  great  intelligence.  His  father 
had  been  a  sea  captain,  and  the  artist,  when  a  boy,  had 
made  voyages  to  Zanzibar.  Hence  his  taste  for  out-at- 
sea  effects.  As  I  watched  the  young  artist,  so  full  of  ardor 
and  hope,  and  not  without  a  touch  of  genius,  wielding 
the  brush  with  confident  facility,  and  with  every  stroke 
bringing  out  new  effects,  a  new  yearning  suddenly  awoke 
in  me.  It  had  been  slumbering  ever  since  my  father, 
fourteen  years  before,  had  insisted  that  I  should  abandon 
all  thought  of  following  art  professionally.  "If  he  who 
has  so  few  facilities  can  paint  so  well  and  can  venture  on 
so  precarious  career,"  I  thought  to  myself,  "why  may  not 
I  do  likewise,  who  have  had  such  schooling  and  practice 
in  drawing,  and  have  seen  the  works  of  the  great  masters 
abroad.''  Although  I  am  thirty-one  years  old,  my  mind 
is  yet  far  from  its  maturity,  and  it  is  not  too  late  to  do 
something  with  the  brush  before  I  die."  I  went  out  from 
that  studio  with  a  new  ambition  that  was  to  shape  my 
life  henceforth,  and,  if  not  always  gratified,  was  never 
more  to  be  dormant.  It  was  to  take  me  away  from  my 
peaceful,  happy,  unambitious  domestic  life  to  wander 
over  the  seas,  to  achieve  a  certain  measure  of  success  in 
art,  exercise  my  energies  in  various  directions,  and  enjoy 
an  experience  in  diplomacy  as  one  of  the  results,  none 
of  which  I  had  dreamed  of  nor  foreseen. 

A  year  was  to  pass,  however,  before  I  could  put  my 
new  resolution  into  practice.    My  wife  fell  into  a  condition 

208 


of  chronic  ill  health  which  made  it  impracticable  for  her 
to  continue  the  cares  of  housekeeping.  Yielding  to  the 
urgent  invitation  of  my  excellent  mother-in-law,  we  aban- 
doned our  pleasant  home  in  Salem,  and  returned  to  Brook- 
field.  But  before  leaving  that  place  it  was  my  luck  to  be 
engaged  in  one  of  the  maddest  yacht  cruises  ever  seen  on 
our  coast;  of  which  I  can  give  only  an  outline  here. 

An  acquaintance  in  Salem  had  purchased  a  sloop  yacht, 
hired  a  Portuguese  seaman  who  claimed  to  have  been  mate, 
and  proposed  a  short  cruise,  to  see  the  race  of  the  Eastern 
Yacht  Club  off  the  Isles  of  Shoals.  He  invited  three  friends 
to  accompany  him ;  but  as  no  one  but  the  Portuguese  knew 
anything  about  sailing,  and  he,  I  found,  was  not  good 
for  much,  Derby  asked  me  to  take  entire  command  during 
the  cruise.  I  accepted  after  some  hesitation  on  the  posi- 
tive promise  that  I  should  have  absolute  control,  free 
from  any  interference  whatever.  We  started  out  with  a 
smacking  breeze  from  the  southwest,  which  increased  after 
we  passed  Thatcher's  Island,  and  we  were  followed  by  a 
good  lump  of  sea  when  we  were  crossing  Ipswich  Bay, 
all  of  which  required  the  most  careful  steering.  Before 
going  below  to  take  a  "modest  quencher"  with  the  rest  of 
the  company,  I  gave  the  strictest  injunctions  to  the  Por- 
tuguese to  mind  his  wheel,  as  we  had  the  whole  mainsail 
set  and  the  centreboard  up.  Scarcely  had  we  placed  the 
glasses  to  our  lips  when  a  terrific  lurch  threw  us  all  in 
a  heap  on  the  starboard  side,  and  the  water  poured  in  a 
great  torrent  down  the  companion-way.  An  inch  more  and 
she  would  have  completely  capsized  and  gone  down ;  and 
there  was  not  a  sail  within  two  miles  to  pick  up  a  soul  of 
us.  The  rascal  of  a  Portuguese  had  let  the  mainsail  jibe, 
and  had  been  within  an  ace  of  costing  us  all  our  lives. 


209 


I  ordered  him  forward,  growling  to  himself,  and  kept 
the  helm  until  we  were  approaching  the  Isles  of  Shoals, 
when  I  turned  it  over  to  him  again,  in  order  to  take  a 
rapid  sketch.  Suddenly  the  yacht  rose  on  a  huge  heaving 
roller  and  then  I  heard  the  roar  of  breakers  on  a  reef  but 
a  cable's  length  ahead,  on  which  the  fool  of  a  Portuguese 
was  letting  her  drive  to  go  to  pieces.  I  thrust  him  aside, 
put  the  helm  down,  and  just  cleared  the  sunken  rocks. 
But  I  was  forced  after  that  to  keep  the  helm  until  we 
dropped  anchor. 

We  proposed  to  pass  the  night  at  Star  Island,  and 
there  was  a  large  fleet  of  yachts  gathering  there  for  the 
morrow's  race.  But  before  we  could  come  to  anchor,  a 
heavy,  shifting  squall  was  seen  blackening  the  southwest 
horizon.  The  Isles  of  Shoals  offered  no  adequate  shelter 
in  such  a  contingency,  and  the  entire  fleet  started  for 
Portsmouth.  It  was  a  nine  miles'  stretch  and  we  had  a 
wild,  exciting  race  under  press  of  sail  against  the  squall, 
some  sixty  yachts  of  all  sizes  shoving  a  mound  of  foam 
under  their  bows,  one  of  the  finest  sea  sights  I  have  ever 
seen.  As  we  rushed  up  the  channed  past  Whaleback 
Light  against  the  tide,  huddled  together  so  that  it  seemed 
impossible  to  avoid  collision,  and  the  thunder  and  light- 
ning drawing  nearer,  the  scene  was  one  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. We  had  just  cleared  the  point  at  the  entrance 
when  the  squall  struck  us.  Dousing  all  sail,  we  turned 
into  a  snug  cove  and  anchored  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 
A  heavy  storm  set  in  that  night,  and  the  fleet,  running 
past  Pull-and-be-damn  Point,  lay  at  Portsmouth  two 
days,  during  Avhich  there  was  much  visiting  and  junket- 
ing among  the  jolly  yachtsmen.  This  proved  too  much 
for  my  friend,  the  owner  of  our  yacht,  who,  I  now  first 


210 


learned,  was  inclined  to  dipsomania,  which  as  a  man  of 
business,  he  generally  controlled,  and  was  then  an  amiable, 
agreeable  fellow.  But  when  under  the  influence  of  liquor 
he  was  surly  and  obstinate,  not  to  say  dangerous,  insist- 
ing on  taking  command,  which  I  resisted,  as  he  knew 
nothing  about  sailing. 

The  day  after,  he  and  his  Portuguese  had  another  fight, 
and  contrived  also  to  get  in  the  way  of  a  freighting 
schooner,  which  took  the  mast  out  of  the  yacht,  and  she 
had  to  be  towed  into  port,  but  we  reached  home  alive. 
Since  that  unlucky  cruise  I  have  always  been  careful  to 
take  no  liquors  when  yachting  except  some  good  rye 
whiskey  in  my  private  locker,  for  special  emergencies, 
and  to  leave  dipsomaniacs  on  shore. 

After  moving  back  to  Brookfield,  and  before  under- 
taking my  plans  for  painting,  I  carried  out  my  idea  of 
welding  together  in  a  consecutive  story  the  various  frag- 
ments relating  to  the  siege  of  Troy,  which  have  survived 
from  classical  literature  and  of  which  the  Iliad,  the  Odys- 
sey, and  Aeneid  and  Aeschylus'  "Agamemnon"  and  the 
fragments  of  the  Cyclic  poets  give  or  suggest  episodes.  I 
had  given  considerable  thought  and  study  to  the  subject, 
and  composed  the  work  with  enthusiasm,  embellishing 
it  with  touches  of  local  color  from  my  early  observations 
in  Greece  and  the  Aegean  Isles.  I  still  think  it  is  one  of 
the  best,  if  not  the  best  of  my  prose  writings.  But  it  had 
no  popular  success,  although  I  had  decided  evidence  that 
they  wlu)  took  pains  to  read  it  through  were  greatly 
pleased  with  it.  The  publishers  ascribed  this  result  to 
the  title — TJte  Choice  of  Parift — which  was  misleading, 
few  people  in  those  days  being  aware  to  what  incident  it 
referred,  even  some  critics,  as  not  unfrequcntly  happens. 


211 


not  looking  beyond  the  title.  Undoubtedly  the  title  is 
half  the  battle  in  this  period  of  ephemeral  literature,  and 
of  appetites  craving  for  what  is  spiced  and  sensational. 
Perhaps,  also,  the  time  for  a  book  on  that  subject  was  not 
yet  ripe.  My  second  attempt  at  the  Trojan  question  in 
1881  with  my  Troy,  Its  Legend,  Literature,  and  Topog- 
raphy, was  sufficiently  successful  to  procure  me  many 
fine  critiques  and  to  recoup  me  financially  for  the  effort 
spent  on  The  Choice  of  Paris,  and  it  continues  to  sell 
after  twenty  years.  Still  the  enthusiasm  I  had  given  to 
the  first  little  book  was  such  that  its  failure  to  meet  with 
adequate  response  was  one  of  the  keenest  disappointments 
in  my  life;  and  after  that  I  became  indifferent  to  writing 
books  of  pure  literature  and  looked  forward  to  the  issue 
of  another  work  with  cynical  sangfroid. 


212 


MANHOOD. 

PART  III. 

THE  AGNOSTIC'S  CREED. 

S.   G.   W.   B. 

We  come,  we  knoxv  not  whence 
We  go,  we  knoxv  not  zchere; 

We  live  a  life  intense 

'Mid  struggle  and  despair. 

In  mist,  zee  vainly  grope; 

We  watch  the  voiceless  shy. 
While  doubts  obscure  our  hope; 

And  thus  we  long  to  diet 

The  sun  goes  down  in  night. 

The  soul  sounds  deepest  glooms 

All  things  steal  out  of  sight; 
Birth,  leads  but  to  the  tomb. 

S.  G.  W.  B. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


MADEIRA. 


After  the  publication  of  The  Choice  of  Paris  the  way 
was  clear  for  me  to  carry  out  my  plan  of  entering  upon 
an  art  career.  Had  that  book  been  successful,  I  might  have 
been  led  to  recede  from  the  plan.  Brookfield  was  near 
to  Boston,  where  I  proposed  to  begin,  and  hence  I  should 
not  to  be  separated  from  my  family  by  long  intervals.  I 
passed  the  winter  of  1869  studying  oil  painting  with  S.  L. 
Gerry  and  William  E.  Norton,  the  former  a  landscape  art- 
ist of  fair  merit,  although  not  of  the  modern  French  school, 
and  the  latter  one  of  the  breeziest  of  our  marine  painters, 
who,  if  he  gained  something  in  technique  and  tone  by  his 
subsequent  studies  and  life  abroad,  also  lost  the  slap  and 
dash  which  gave  his  earlier  work  a  suggestion  of  genius 
less  apparent  in  his  later  efforts.  But  it  was  not  my  in- 
tention to  imitate  the  style  of  either  of  these  artists  or 
of  any  others,  nature  and  my  own  impressions  being  my 
sources  of  inspiration.  Nor  could  they  teach  me  much 
about  drawing  and  prospective.  My  education  in  these 
branches  was  equal  to  theirs,  and  had  been  cultivated 
still  further  in  later  years.  But  I  could  learn  from  them 
what  I  really  needed,  the  properties  and  management  of 
oil  pigments  and  hints   in  composition,  matters   in   which 


215 


a  few  months  of  expert  instruction  was  worth  years  of 
ignorant  experiment. 

After  leaving  the  studios  of  these  artists,  where  I  made 
the  acquaintance  of  many  other  painters,  and  acquired  a 
certain  professional  feeling,  I  took  passage  in  the  brig 
Clara  to  Newfoundland,  to  study  the  sea  and  observe  its 
effects  in  the  broad,  in  order  to  avoid  the  vicious  style 
of  giving  too  many  needless  details.  I  began  to  feel  al- 
ready that  breadth  in  composition  and  expression,  sug- 
gestion, rather  than  the  mosaic-like  detail  and  finish,  was  a 
prime  object  of  good  art;  and  furthermore,  that  a  sense 
of  movement  and  power  cannot  otherwise  be  well  repre- 
sented, while  impressions  of  the  majesty  of  out-at-sea 
waves  can  only  be  truly  obtained,  in  my  opinion,  from  the 
deck  of  small  sailing  ships,  rather  than  from  immense 
steamships. 

The  voyage  to  Newfoundland  occupied  several  weeks. 
It  was  attended  by  some  adventure  and  fine  storm  effects. 
Owing  to  the  character  of  the  crew  and  passengers,  all 
Irish  Newfoundlanders,  it  was  also  one  of  the  spiciest 
trips  in  my  experience.  The  vessel  was  deep-loaded,  and 
lived  through  a  gale  of  wind  only  to  come  near  to  ship- 
wreck on  Sable  Island.  Escape  from  the  latter  peril  was 
perhaps  due  to  my  own  observations  when  at  the  wheel. 
I  noticed  that  the  brig  was  by  the  head,  and  carried  too 
much  sail  for  that  condition.  Hence  she  made  as  much 
leeway  as  headway,  driven  sidewise  by  the  swift  currents 
towards  the  treacherous  quicksands  of  a  desolate  isle 
which  was  so  low  that  it  could  not  be  perceived  until  al- 
most on  it.  The  captain  had  been  puzzled  and  alarmed  by 
this  mysterious  driftway.  My  report  gave  an  instant  solu- 
tion of  the  problem.     The  trim  of  the  vessel  was  altered 


216 


as  well  as  the  sails.  Thus  we  cleared  the  island  by  sun- 
down, and  made  a  straight  course  for  Cape  Race  before 
a  strong,  steady  breeze.  The  hardtack  and  salt  beef 
furnished  all  hands  fore  and  aft  was  the  worst  I  ever 
experienced  during  a  somewhat  varied  career,  and  the 
rations  were  short  at  that.  My  teeth  and  stomach  sur- 
vived both.  The  crew  was  of  the  roughest,  men  accus- 
tomed to  sealing  among  the  ice  floes  in  the  spring  of  the 
year,  crowded  in  small  brigs  and  schooners,  and  all  that 
that  implies.  They  were  a  hardened  set  of  sinners,  but 
their  unfailing  Irish  wit,  humor,  and  brogue,  and  their 
intense  belief  in  "the  Church"  and  likewise  in  the  exist- 
ence of  the  celebrated  "Black  Dog"  and  his  frequent, 
actual  appearance  in  Newfoundland,  and  indeed  to  some 
of  those  on  board,  gave  one  new  impressions  of  the  in- 
finite varieties  of  human  life  and  character.  In  the  in- 
tervals between  the  yarns  about  miracles  of  the  Saints, 
and  deeds  of  the  Black  Dog,  I  was  entertained  by  the 
vixenish  tirades  of  a  handsome  young  Irish  shrew  who 
perpetually  belabored  her  patient  spouse. 

On  my  return  home  I  hired  a  studio  in  Boston.  Before 
the  end  of  the  season,  Messrs.  Williams  and  Everett, 
the  well  known  art  dealers  to  whose  early  encouragement 
I  feel  duly  grateful,  put  on  exhibition  the  first  painting 
I  offered  to  the  public,  a  twenty-inch  by  twelve  canvas ; 
and  in  a  month  they  sold  it  for  sixty  dollars.  As  I  do  not 
believe  it  beneficial  to  the  progress  of  true  art  to  mix 
the  commercial  Avith  the  artistic  strides  of  the  profession, 
I  shall  not  allude  again  to  the  prices  received  for  my  paint- 
ings, although  I  have  no  cause  to  be  ashamed  on  that 
score,  and  only  mention  the  price  of  m}'  first  sale  here  as 
suggestive  of  the  rapidity  of  my  first  success.     As  to  the 


217 


merit  of  the  paintings*  I  executed  during  the  ten  years 
when  my  brush  was  busiest,  that  is  a  question  for  others 
to  decide.  But  I  may  say,  perhaps,  that  the  best  of  them 
had  spirit,  boldness,  and  action,  an  originaHty  in  color 
and  a  "go"  that  pleased  people.  These  qualities  came 
from  my  being  full  of  the  subject,  goaded  on  by  an  earnest 
demand  for  expression,  now  that  I  had  found  a  vent  in 
that  direction,  and  by  the  prime  fact  that  my  art  gave 
no  hint  of  any  master,  studio,  or  school,  but  was  strictly 
original.  These  qualities  won  attention  in  spite  of  the 
occasional  crudeness  and  unpolished  technique.  Boldness 
and  force  was  what  I  sought  rather  than  refinement,  and 
suggestion  rather  than  complete  rendition  of  details. 
This  I  may  say  frankly,  my  avoidance  of  dangerous 
colors  for  immediate  effect  gave  a  permanence  to  the 
chromatic  effects  I  sought,  and  so  far  as  I  know  my  earliest 
pictures  are  still  uncracked  and  as  fresh  as  when  first 
executed. 

From  the  outset  I  determined  to  make  my  study  of  the 
sea  from  a  ship's  deck  on  the  broad  ocean,  rather  than 
from  the  shore.  In  pursuance  of  this  object  I  now  entered 
on  a  series  of  voyages  which  furnished  material  for  my 
pictorial  efforts  and  whose  expenses  were  paid  by  the  ar- 
ticles I  wrote.  The  cruise  in  the  brig  Clara  was  the  first 
trip  of  this  sort.  The  second  voyage  was  in  the  bark 
Jehu  to  the  Azores.  When  I  was  twenty-eight  I  was 
seized,  without  any  apparent  cause,  with  the  premonition 
that  I  should  die  when  I  was  thirty-seven. f  This  thought 
did  not  specially  depress  my  spirits,  but  it  was  ever  pres- 
ent as  a  certainty  to  be  taken  into  account  in  arranging 


*Note  list  of  paintings  solO 


*Note  list  of  paintings  soUl. 

tHis   last   illness   began    in    his    74th    year.      (Twice    thirty-seven). 


218 


my  plans.  Accordingly  I  hesitated  before  embarking 
on  this  cruise,  being  thirty-seven,  and  seriously  proposed 
to  myself  to  abandon  it.  But  I  reasoned  that  if  my  fate 
was  to  be  settled  that  year,  it  would  come  wherever  I  hap- 
pened to  be.  So  I  bade  good-bye  to  my  family  as  though 
for  the  last  time,  and  put  to  sea.  As  it  happened  the 
voyage  actually  proved  one  of  the  most  perilous  and  ad- 
venturous I  ever  sailed ;  several  times  the  vessel  came  near 
to  being  lost  with  all  on  board.  But,  after  all  we  reached 
home  safely,  and  I  have  never  been  troubled  with  any  such 
mysterious  warning  since  then. 

To  give  a  full  account  of  this  cruise  would  take  a  vol- 
ume. I  can  only  present  a  mere  sketch  of  it  here.  The 
vessel  was  a  small,  extreme  clipper  bark  of  240  tons,  in 
ballast.  In  the  first  place,  Captain  BroAvn,  once  a  skilful 
seaman,  was  now  too  old  for  such  exceptional  service  and 
hence  practically  incompetent.  But  for  the  iron  discipline 
which  happily  and  necessarily  rules  at  sea,  he  would  have 
been  deposed  before  half  the  voyage  was  over,  and  the 
usual  fearful  results  of  mutiny  might  have  followed.  He 
would  go  on  deck  at  critical  moments,  take  the  command 
from  the  mate,  a  good  Yankee  sailor,  or  the  second  mate, 
a  magnificent,  barefooted,  but  eagle-eyed  Portuguese,  and 
then  drop  to  sleep  on  the  hatch.  On  one  occasion  he  did 
this  when  all  were  anxiously  waiting  orders  to  take  in  the 
sail  for  an  approaching  squall,  and  no  one  dared  to  arouse 
him.  The  squall  threw  the  vessel  on  her  beam  ends  and 
she  came  within  an  ace  of  foundering! 

The  ostensible  object  of  the  voyage  was  to  procure  a 
charter  for  a  cargo  of  oranges  in  November,  but  this 
was  too  thin  a  pretext  to  blind  anyone,  especially  as  a 
strip  of  canvas  was  hung  over  the  stern  to  conceal  her 


219 


name.  The  real  purpose  was  to  steal  Portuguese,  that  is 
to  smuggle  young  men  out  of  the  islands  who  sought  to 
evade  the  dreaded  conscription  which  meant  life  ruin,  but 
who  lacked  the  sum  essential  to  purchase  exemption.  On 
the  previous  voyage  the  Jehu  had  brought  140  fugitives ; 
and  there  was  an  organized  secret  agency  on  most  of  the 
islands  to  watch  for  them,  arrange  the  rendezvous,  and 
ship  the  fugitives,  on  board.  Of  course  such  a  conspiracy 
could  not  long  evade  detection,  and  the  armed  bateaux 
or  garda  costas  of  the  local  authorities  were  constantly 
on  the  alert  not  only  to  seize  the  refugees,  but  to  capture 
and  confiscate  the  bark  itself,  if  caught  in  fragrante  del- 
icto, even  at  the  risk  of  a  bloody  fight.  I  never  enjoyed 
any  voyage  more  than  this  one,  for  it  gave  me  unsur- 
passed opportunities  to  study  the  sea  and  sea  cliffs,  and 
the  manoeuvering  of  the  sailing  ship,  to  participate  in 
romantic  adventure,  and  to  observe  the  hardy,  brave, 
picturesque  people  of  those  lonely  but  sublime  oases,  in 
the  vast  wastes  of  the  Atlantic. 

One  of  our  most  thrilling  experiences  occurred  under 
the  tremendous  precipices  of  St.  George.  We  had  others 
as  dangerous,  but  their  duration  was  briefer,  sooner  met 
and  sooner  ended.  But  this  one  lasted  for  several  hours, 
and  we  had  ample  time  to  face  and  realize  in  prolonged 
apprehension,  the  doom  that  seemed  inevitable.  We  had 
intelligence  that  a  band  of  fugitives  would  meet  our  boats 
at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  on  the  north  side  of  the  island. 
It  was  blowing  a  living  gale  of  wind  from  the  southwest 
when  we  rounded  the  eastern  end,  under  close-reefed  top- 
sails. We  ran  at  once  into  a  heavy  but  comparatively 
smooth  northwest  swell  and  almost  a  calm  under  the  pro- 
tection  of  the   cliffs   scarcely   anywhere  less   than   fifteen 


220 


hundred  feet  high,  sheer  up  and  down  like  a  Titanic  wall; 
and  yet  we  dared  not  shake  out  a  single  reef  for  whenever 
we  came  to  a  gulch  the  wind  shot  down  with  the  swiftness 
and  fury  of  a  cannon  ball.  Once  indeed  the  bark  was  laid 
over  so  suddenly  for  an  instant  that  everyone  on  deck  was 
hurled  into  the  lee  scuppers.  At  length  a  faint  column 
of  smoke  was  discerned  near  the  water.  The  bark  was 
hove  to  and  the  largest  yawl  was  despatched  to  bring 
off  the  fugitives.  It  was  a  very  serious  job.  The  rollers 
were  high,  the  surf  made  it  impossible  to  land,  and  those 
of  the  refugees  who  were  desperate  enough  to  incur  the 
risk,  leaped  into  the  water  and  were  with  great  difficulty 
picked  up.  All  this  consumed  several  hours  and  it  was 
nightfall  before  the  boat  finally  returned  with  all  on  board 
greatly  exhausted  as  well  as  indignant,  as  the  ship  had 
not  been  kept  sufficiently  near,  as  they  claimed. 

In  the  meantime  we  who  had  remained  with  the  bark 
had  our  hands  full  with  our  own  toils  and  anxieties.  The 
captain  allowed  the  vessel  to  drift  so  far  under  the  island 
that  he  lost  the  wind  altogether,  and  entirely  at  the  mercy 
of  the  huge  northwest  swell,  she  swung  steadily  towards 
the  implacable  rocks  which  offered  no  anchorage  or  land- 
ing. There  was  every  evidence  that  the  wind  was  prepar- 
ing to  shift,  which  would  have  taken  away  our  last  hope 
by  placing  us  on  a  lee  shore.  The  sky  became  overcast. 
The  clouds  in  the  offing  had  the  appearance  of  land,  a 
very  sinister  sign ;  and  the  mist  gathering  on  the  crest  of 
the  island  spilled  over  the  brow  of  the  cliffs  like  silent 
cataracts.  Captain  Brown  summoned  all  hands  to  aid  and 
ordered  every  stitch  of  canvas  to  be  spread.  The  long  boat 
and  the  gig  were  lowered  and  the  refugees  already  with 
us  Avere  sent  forward  to  tow  the  ship  farther  out.     Me, 


221 


he  ordered  to  the  wheel  with  directions  to  watch  and  take 
advantage  of  every  puff  of  air  stirring  aloft.  It  was  pain- 
ful to  observe  his  senile  anxiety.  For  once  sleep  w^as 
driven  from  his  eyelids.  But  all  was  of  no  use.  The  good 
bark,  apparently  doomed,  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  her 
fate,  and  the  night  was  now  not  far  off  which  for  us 
would  probably  have  no  dawn.  About  the  same  time  that 
the  long  absent  boat  was  descried  approaching,  a  savage 
squall  was  also  seen  making  towards  us  out  of  the  north- 
west, the  ship  mind  you,  being  now  under  all  sail  to  take 
advantage  of  any  favorable  air,  and  the  mate  and  myself 
the  only  men  on  board  besides  the  captain.  The  latter 
sent  the  mate  forward  to  order  the  towing  boats  along- 
side instantly,  w'hile  he  himself  beckoned  and  yelled  to 
the  other  boat  to  hurry  up.  The  men  tumbled  aboard, 
the  boats  were  hastily  made  fast  to  the  rail  with  an  even 
chance  of  being  lost,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  top- 
sails slapped  the  masts  with  a  sound  of  thunder,  and  the 
ship  shuddered  from  stem  to  stern  as  the  shifting  squall 
roared  through  the  rigging.  Fortunately  I  had  got  a 
little  way  on  her  by  watchful  steering,  enough  to  bring 
her  into  the  wind,  or  she  would  have  gone  over.  As  it 
was,  everything  for  a  few  moments  was  in  the  most  ap- 
palling disorder,  while  intense  gloom  settled  over  the  sea. 
We  now  had  fifteen  miles  to  go  to  clear  the  island,  and 
to  do  it  we  had  to  carry  a  press  of  sail  in  a  furious  sea; 
it  was  our  only  hope,  and  a  slim  one  at  that.  If  a  single 
spar  had  gone  or  a  single  sheet  started,  we  were  doomed. 
Smothered  in  foam  the  good  ship  dashed  on,  but  it  was 
several  hours  before  the  suspense  was  over,  and  we  could 
feel  that  at  last  we  were  in  comparative  safety  and  could 
come  down  to  snug  sail.    But  we  had  to  lie  to  for  two  days 


222 


before  the  gale  blew  out.  In  his  Cruise  of  the  Cachelot, 
George  Buller  graphically  describes  the  peril  of  three 
whalers  becalmed  under  a  precipice  less  than  half  a  mile 
long  while  a  storm  was  approaching.  But  that  was  a  mere 
trifle  compared  with  our  tremendous  experience  laider  the 
cliff  walls  of  St.  George. 

One  of  the  most  agreeable  incidents  of  this  cruise  was 
our  visit  to  the  isle  of  Flores,  situated,  with  the  near 
neighboring  rock,  Corvo,  far  from  the  rest  of  the  group. 
The  bark  lay  off  and  in  the  open,  while  Capt.  Brown,  his 
wife  and  the  writer  landed  for  the  night.  There  was  some- 
thing strangely  weird  and  piquant  in  this  islet  ten  miles 
long  and  two  or  three  wide,  and  its  5,000  people,  alo?ie  in 
the  broad  Atlantic.  It  had  its  little  cliff-enclosed  port, 
entered  by  a  passage  wide  enough  to  admit  a  boat  heaving 
in  on  the  everlasting  rollers,  its  little  capital  of  1,200 
souls,  named,  of  course,  Santa  Cruz,  its  little  aristocracy, 
whose  sons  studied  at  the  university  in  Portugal,  and  then 
returned  to  vegetate  on  their  insular  estates,  and  its  peas- 
ant class ;  everything  multum  in  parvo,  remote,  obscure, 
contented,  while  the  surges  beat  its  precipitous  sides,  and 
the  boisterous  nations  fought  and  struggled  in  far  away 
lands,  unrecked  by  the  simple  folk  of  Flores.  To  some 
individuals  such  a  corner  of  the  world  might  prove  a 
welcome  refuge  from  adversities  and  agitations  that  had 
assailed  them  elsewhere.  A  philosopher  might  also  find 
reflective  ease  in  such  an  asylum.  One  man  I  found  there 
who  seemed  to  prove  the  truth  of  these  observations.  He 
was  a  solitary  Italian,  an  artificer  in  the  precious  metals 
who  wrought  by  the  barred  window  of  his  apartment  in 
a  massive  old  stone  building  cverlooking  the  port.  His 
white  hair,  crowned  by  a  black  velvet  skull  cap,  and  his 

223 
15 


silken  white  beard,  suggested  a  man  of  seventy,  but  I 
judged  from  various  signs  that  he  was  about  fifty.  He 
told  me  that  he  had  left  his  native  land  to  find  rest.  He 
had  had  his  troubles ;  possibly  he  was  a  political  refugee. 
He  found  what  he  sought  at  Flores,  and  was  content  to 
remain  there  until  death.  He  needed  little  there,  and  that 
little,  he  gained  from  the  filigree  earrings  and  finger  rings 
he  made  for  the  peasants  of  Flores  and  Fayal.  He  was 
a  genial  if  somewhat  serious  character.  There  was  a  his- 
tory in  his  life  which  I  might  have  learned  could  I  have 
remained  there  a  year  or  two,  as  I  yearned  to  do. 

At  the  house  of  our  host  at  one  of  these  islands,  a  well- 
to-do  gentleman,  where  we  passed  the  night,  I  met  with 
an  experience  novel  to  me  then,  but  as  I  now  know  not 
uncommon  in  Portuguese  society,  especially  the  colonies. 
The  very  novelty  of  it  suggested  prudence  and  discretion, 
and  thus  I  escaped  the  serious  consequence  that  would 
have  surely  followed  a  different  course.  Our  host  was  a 
widower,  and  hence  the  oldest  of  his  three  sisters  assumed 
the  hospitable  custom  of  a  hostess  to  her  guest.  When  the 
hour  came  for  retiring  this  comely  young  lady  led  the 
way  to  the  apartment  I  was  to  occupy,  and  entering  with 
me,  closed  the  door,  took  a  seat,  and  began  to  converse 
with  me  without  the  slightest  embarrassment,  which  was 
more  than  I  could  say  for  myself.  After  talking  with  her 
for  a  few  moments  and  perceiving  that  she  showed  no 
intention  of  withdrawing,  I  proceeded  to  disrobe  myself 
as  coolly  as  possible.  She  looked  on  every  movement  with 
unaffected  interest,  and  when  I  mustered  courage  to  get 
into  bed  she  smoothed  the  sheets,  and  sat  down  by  the  bed 
side  and  chatted  for  some  moments.  Then  she  asked  if 
there  was  anything  more  she  could  do  for  my  comfort,  to 


224 


Avhicli  I  was  careful  to  reply  in  the  negative,  bade  me  a 
pleasant  slumber,  and  left  me  to  reflect  on  some  of  the 
strangest  sensations  in  my  experience.  Many  nations, 
many  customs !  Evidently  this  was  one  of  the  most  ser- 
ious perils  of  this  adventurous  cruise,  for  an  opposite 
course  on  my  part  might  have  cost  my  life;  as  I  subse- 
quently learned. 

On  the  voyage  home  the  vessel  came  near  to  burning  up 
one  stormy  night  through  the  carelessness  of  one  of  the 
men  and  the  consequent  ignition  of  some  loose  oakum  be- 
tween decks.  Fancy  what  would  have  been  the  results,  a 
tempestuous  night  in  mid  ocean,  a  huge  sea,  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  souls  on  board  including  some  thirty 
women  and  children,  and  only  three  boats !  I  saw  the 
whole  performance,  being  on  deck  with  the  watch.  Our 
salvation  was  due  to  the  amazing  presence  of  mind  of  the 
mate. 

The  following  summer  I  sailed  once  more  in  the  bark 
Jehu  for  the  "Azores,  and  Madeira,  and  a  market,"  with 
Captain  George  Hardy  in  command,  this  time.  I  took 
several  voyages  with  this  excellent  seaman  and  Christian 
gentleman.  A  nobler  sailor  never  trod  the  quarter-deck. 
Captain  Hardy  was  born  in  the  south  of  England,  and 
came  of  good  old  English  stock.  He  was  articled  to  an 
attorney  with  a  view  to  following  the  law ;  but  ran  away 
to  sea  when  he  was  seventeen.  He  was  one  of  the  some- 
what rare  men  who  have  told  me  that  the  boyish  passion 
for  the  sea  had  not  been  dampened  by  subsequent  hard- 
ships and  perils.  At  twenty,  he  was  in  command.  He 
was  a  Christian,  a  convert  to  the  Plymouth  Brethren. 
Every  evening  he  had  prayers  in  the  cabin,  but  he  would 
rise  to  an  emergency,  the  coolest  man  there. 


225 


The  last  time  I  saw  Captain  Hardy  was  on  his  return 
from  a  long  trading  cruise  to  Australia  and  the  East 
Indies.  He  had  offered  me  a  stateroom  and  urged  my 
going  with  him.  But  the  health  of  my  wife  made  such  a 
long  absence  inexpedient  at  that  time.  On  learning  of  his 
arrival  in  Boston,  I  went  immediately  to  welcome  him, 
and  heard  the  details  of  a  voyage  which  had  promised  so 
much  of  unusual  interest  when  it  was  proposed  to  me.  I 
have  always  regretted  that  I  was  prevented  from  under- 
taking it.  It  was  on  this  voyage  that  Captain  Hardy  en- 
countered a  most  thrilling  and  remarkable  experience. 
His  vessel,  the  good  bark  EtJian  Allen,  was  lying  at  Chit- 
tagong  during  one  of  the  most  appalling  hurricanes  on 
record.  At  nightfall  one  hundred  and  fifty-three  vessels 
were  at  anchor  in  the  roads.  At  daybreak  the  Ethan  Al- 
len was  the  only  one  left  afloat !  All  the  others  had  either 
foundered  or  gone  on  shore,  while  the  huge  rollers,  sweep- 
ing completely  over  the  low  island,  had  carried  the  dense 
population,  by  scores  of  thousands,  into  eternity.  He 
showed  me  photographs  he  had  taken  of  the  wrecks,  ly- 
ing piled  together  in  ghastly  heaps  on  the  sand  as  the 
water  receded.  Captain  Hardy  also  told  me  that  the 
water  had  been  blown  as  high  as  his  top-gallant  yards, 
what  remained  of  the  furled  sails  being  brown  with  mud. 
He  stood  in  the  pilot  house  all  night  expecting  the  final 
catastrophe  any  moment.  He  attributed  the  safety  of  his 
ship  to  the  fact  that  by  lying  farther  out,  he  had  escaped 
collision  with  ships  adrift,  and  also  to  the  very  excellent 
ground-tackle  he  had  procured  before  leaving  Boston. 
On  the  voyage  succeeding  this  one  Captain  Hardy  suc- 
cumbed at  last,  to  a  disease  which  he  had  borne  for  years 
with  unflinching  fortitude. 


226 


One  of  the  most  original  characters  of  the  Jehu's  crew 
was  Charlie,  the  Austrian  cook.  He  was  fat  and  generally 
good  natured,  although  fully  appreciating  the  dignity  and 
power  of  his  position  as  purveyor  of  the  chief  comforts 
of  those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships.  He  chaffed  the 
crew  without  stint,  but  was  careful  how  they  chaffed  in  re- 
turn. Master  of  all  the  mysteries  of  the  ship's  cuisine, 
they  knew  that  the  quality  of  Sunday's  plum  duff  de- 
pended on  how  they  stood  in  with  him.  It  was  jolly, 
when  the  captain  announced  eight  bells  at  noon,  to  hear 
the  cook  sing  out  in  his  galley,  "Come  and  see  me."  Im- 
mediately after  the  men  would  be  seen  thronging  about  the 
galley  door  with  pin'iMns  and  trenchers  to  get  their  prog. 
I  have  spoken  of  this  worthy  because  of  his  curious  fate. 
The  second  year  after  this.  Captain  Hardy  having  just 
laid  his  bark  alongside  of  Long  Wliarf,  once  so  famous  as 
the  rendezvous  of  our  sailing  vessels,  Charlie,  the  cook, 
and  the  anchor  watch  were  the  only  hands  on  board.  It 
was  a  winter  morning  and  bitter  cold.  The  decks  and 
bulwarks  were  caked  with  snow  and  slippery  with  ice. 
The  watch  was  below  busied  about  something.  When  he 
came  on  deck  he  missed  the  cook.  Looking  over  the  side, 
he  saw  the  galley  bucket  floating  among  the  grinding  ice 
cakes,  but  nothing  of  the  cook,  who,  it  was  evident,  had 
slipped  and  fallen  over  when  attempting  to  draw  salt 
water.  The  alarm  was  given,  but  all  search  proved  of  no 
avail.  When  Spring  came  divers  went  down  and  discov- 
ered the  corpse  of  poor  Charlie  clinging  to  a  pile,  the  arms 
and  legs  clasped  tightly  around  the  timber  as  in  his  last 
agony  he  had  frantically  tried  to  climb  the  cold  wood, 
slippery  with  green  slime. 

While   we   remained    at    Horta,    the   port    of   Fayal,    I 


227 


seized  the  interval  to  do  a  little  mountain  climbing.  One 
day  I  ascended  the  central  peak  of  the  island,  nearly  4,000 
feet  high,  and  descended  into  the  vast  crater,  1,500  feet 
deep.  The  fires  were  extinct  or  at  least  slumbering,  and 
I  was  able  to  walk  over  the  vast  floor  of  the  crater,  soft, 
slippery  and  noiseless,  carpeted  with  mossy  grass.  In 
the  center  was  a  smaller  pyramidal  crater.  The  silence 
and  solitude  were  appalling.  I  had  with  me  only  a  Portu- 
guese lad.  We  seemed  shut  out  from  the  world  forever; 
while  the  clouds  floated  like  phantom  cataracts  over  the 
walls  of  the  abyss,  and  vanished  into  nothingness  ere  they 
were  half  way  down. 

Four  or  five  miles  from  Fayal  is  the  island  of  Pico,  the 
strait  between  the  two  islands  forming  the  port  of  Fayal. 
The  Peak  of  Pico,  one  of  the  grandest  insular  volcanic 
cones  in  the  world  in  shape  and  situation,  gives  character 
to  every  prospect  in  the  neighborhood,  and  serves  as  a 
barometer  to  the  islanders  as  well  as  to  approaching  ves- 
sels, according  as  it  is  clear  or  dofl's  its  hood  of  cloud.  It 
is  8,300  feet  in  height,  nearly  twice  the  altitude  of  Ve- 
suvius. When  the  sun  sets  in  clear  weather,  the  apex  of 
this  sublime  mountain  burns  like  a  live  coal,  while  its 
majestic  slopes  at  the  base  are  draped  in  royal  purple. 
I  crossed  the  strait  in  a  little  felucca  manned  by  handsome, 
barefooted  islanders.  As  for  myself,  the  air  and  the 
scenes  acted  on  me  as  an  elixir,  and  I  was  never  in  bet- 
ter trim  to  climb  a  mountain.  The  picturesque,  semi- 
classic  beauty  of  the  peasant  girls,  who  flocked  to  the 
fountain  near  the  beach  to  fill  their  jars,  reminded  me  of 
similar  scenes  in  the  Greek  Isles  or  the  Odyssey,  and  I 
was  none  too  old  to  appreciate  the  artistic  or  the  roman- 
tic possibilities  of  what  I  saw.     Tennyson  says,  "In  the 


228 


spring  the  young  man's  heart  turns  lightly  to  the  thoughts 
of  love" ;  but  to  the  properly  constituted  young  man  one 
season  answers  as  well  as  another.  It  is  usually  with  him 
not  a  question  of  season,  but  of  opportunity  or  expe- 
diency. 

In  order  to  make  an  early  start  as  near  the  foot  of  the 
direct  ascent  as  possible,  I  decided  not  to  pass  the  night 
at  the  quinta  of  Mr.  Dabney  our  consul  at  Fayal,  which 
he  had  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal,  but  to  proceed  a 
thousand  feet  higher  to  Vellas  village,  where  my  guide 
gave  me  a  rude  bed  in  his  primitive  hovel.  His  neigh- 
bors dropped  in,  to  have  a  sight  of  the  stranger  and  per- 
haps to  show  a  sense  of  hospitality.  The  extreme  pov- 
erty as  well  as  comradship  of  these  humble  folk  was  dis- 
played when  the  host  rolled  a  cigarette  and  passed  it 
around,  each  one  taking  two  or  three  precious  whiffs.  The 
high  duties  on  tobacco  make  it  go  high  in  the  Portuguese 
islands  and  act  also  as  a  premium  on  smuggling  the  weed. 
At  four  in  the  morning,  after  a  hurried  meal,  we  began 
the  ascent  of  Pico  Peak.  I  rode  a  donkey  for  half  the 
distance.  The  remainder  of  the  climb  offered  no  special 
difficulties  for  foot  travel  until  we  reached  the  first  crater. 
This  was  a  wonderful  pit  of  brown  lava,  whose  steep  walls 
were  composed  of  black,  shining  slag  twisted  into  incon- 
ceivably grotesque  forms  like  monsters  of  the  antediluvian 
world  suddenly  transfixed  into  stone  in  the  midst  of  their 
uncouth  writhing.  The  little  sharp  peak  which  springs 
some  300  feet  above  this  crater,  and  at  a  distance  seems 
to  come  to  a  needle-like  point,  presented  the  first  real 
danger,  and  the  guides  earnestly  warned  me  not  to  at- 
tempt it ;  or  at  least  to  keep  on  the  inner  side,  as  the  outer 
slope  formed  a  continuous  line  with  the  drop  of  the  moun- 


229 


tain,  and  an  accident  there  implied  a  fall  and  a  roll  of 
thousands  of  feet.  As  it  turned  out,  we  did  not  escape 
peril,  for  the  face  of  the  little  peak  is  composed  of  loose 
blocks  that  are  easily  dislodged  by  the  climber.  One  of 
the  guides  went  ahead,  and  the  other  followed  close  after 
me.  The  former  started  a  lava  rock  half  as  big  as  my 
body  that  bounded  over  me  near  enough  to  graze  the  rim 
of  my  hat.  The  summit  was  hallowed  into  a  bowl,  twenty 
to  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  A  thin  vapor  issued  from  it, 
and  the  rim  on  which  we  sat  was  sufficiently  warm  to  re- 
quire shifting  of  position,  although  no  eruption  had  been 
recorded,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  for  several  ages.  The 
prospect  from  that  dizzy  height  was  impressive  to  the  last 
degree.  Although  we  were  miles  in  a  direct  line  from  the 
sea  yet  the  descent  is  so  abrupt,  that  as  I  sat  on  the  edge 
of  the  little  crater  and  dangled  my  feet  into  space,  it 
seemed  possible  to  throw  a  stone  into  the  purple  ocean 
whose  eternal  breakers  fringed  the  shore  a  mile  and  a  half 
below  with  a  thread  of  silver  foam. 

It  was  long  after  nightfall  when  we  returned  to  Vellas, 
and  I  crossed  the  strait  at  sunrise,  my  heart  swelling  with 
the  exhilaration  of  the  various  incidents  of  the  trip.  On 
reaching  the  bark,  I  found  Captain  Hardy  starting  to 
breakfast  with  the  Baron  de  Freitas.  He  gave  me  just 
ten  minutes  to  dress,  including  shaving,  as  we  were  al- 
ready overtime.  I  accomplished  the  feat  with  man-of-war 
speed  and  method,  having  several  seconds  to  spare,  greatly 
to  Captain  Hardy's  innocent  merriment. 

From  Fayal  we  sailed  to  Madeira.  It  fell  a  dead  calm 
while  we  were  miles  from  the  anchorage  at  Funchal. 
Slowly  we  drifted  in  on  the  swell,  and  it  was  three  in  the 
morning  before  the  cable  rattled  and  the  anchor  took  the 


230 


ground.  I  walked  the  deck  until  then,  overpowered  by  the 
majestic  scene,  listening  to  the  low,  distant  boom  of  the 
surf,  watching  the  twinkling  lights,  and  the  vast  steeps 
veiled  in  darkness  and  mystery,  wondering  the  while  what 
loveliness  that  I  was  yet  to  learn,  was  to  throw  a  spell 
over  me  and  enthrall  my  soul  like  no  other  place  my  eyes 
have  seen.  Captain  Hardy  had  long  whetted  my  curios- 
ity with  his  glowing  descriptions,  but  I  found  that  half 
had  not  been  told  me ! 

As  when  a  man  falls  irrevocably  in  love  at  first  sight, 
as  the  Chevalier  de  Grisieux  recognized  his  destined  af- 
finity the  instant  he  first  glanced  at  Manon  1'  Escant,  so, 
likewise,  did  I  utterly  and  forever  lose  my  heart  when 
jNIadeira,  glowing  in  the  splendor  of  day,  revealed  her 
charms  to  me  for  the  first  time  by  the  turquoise  sea  that 
laved  her  feet,  a  new  Aphrodite  springing  with  eternal 
poesy  and  beauty  from  the  waves.  I  have  seen  many 
lovely  spots  before  and  since,  many  of  the  world's  most 
famed  resorts  ;  but  none  of  them  have  ever  so  won  upon 
my  affections,  so  incorporated  with  my  being,  so  united 
in  perfect  harmony  with  my  tastes,  as  Madeira  the  peer- 
less and  superb,  matchless  in  scenery,  and  unsurpassed  in 
its  elysian  climate,  the  gem  of  the  ocean. 

A  fortnight  at  Funchal  was  busily  passed  by  me  ex- 
ploring the  gorges  and  valleys  and  pretty  hamlets,  skirt- 
ing the  cliffs  and  shores  in  boats,  and  climbing  to  the  sum- 
mit of  Pico  Ruivo  the  highest  of  the  central  group  of  lofty 
peaks,  and  taking  studies  here  and  there,  before  we 
made  sail  once  more  for  Boston.  For  several  months  I 
worked  hard  in  my  studio,  painting  some  of  my  ^Madeira 
studies  and  compositions  suggested  by  my  recent  voyages, 
a  number  of  which  I  was  able  to  sell  for  what  would  be 


231 


considered  good  prices  for  one  comparatively  new  in  the 
profession.  By  the  end  of  winter  I  was  read}  to  sail 
again  with  Captain  Hardy,  this  time  with  the  intention  of 
staying  sometime  in  Madeira  and  adding  to  my  collection 
of  insular  studies.  Captain  Hardy  was  now  in  command 
of  the  fine  bark,  Ethan  Allen,  a  half  clipper  of  540  tons, 
with  a  poop  deck  in  the  old  style  and  the  cabin  below,  a 
smart,  all  around  sailor,  altogether  an  admirable  example 
of  the  best  we  could  do  in  shipbuilding  in  those  days. 
During  the  Civil  War  she  was  employed  as  a  blockader 
and  mounted  a  battery.  I  have  already  alluded  to  her 
performance  at  the  Chittagong  monsoon.  After  Cap- 
tain Hardy's  death  she  was  sold  to  King  Kalakaua,  and 
formed  the  sum  total  of  the  Hawaiian  navy.  Being  sent 
on  a  cruise  to  Samoa,  the  Ethan  Allen  was  seized  and  held 
as  security  for  a  bill  of  repairs.  For  ought  I  know,  she 
may  be  still  employed  in  those  waters.  On  this,  my  second 
voyage  to  Madeira,  this  smart  vessel  especially  distin- 
guished herself  by  one  of  the  most  remarkable  runs  ever 
made  by  a  sailing  ship.  We  shook  out  the  rags  on  the 
third  of  March,  in  the  midst  of  a  piercing  nor'west  gale, 
favorable,  but  of  great  fury.  We  passed  Boston  Light 
under  close  reefed  topsails,  reefed  foresail  and  fore  top- 
mast staysail,  and  carried  the  gale  until  we  struck  the 
northeast  trades  of  the  coast  of  Portugal,  stood  close- 
hauled  for  two  days,  and  dropped  the  mud-hook  in  Fun- 
chal  roads  precisely  thirteen  days  after  losing  sight  of 
Long  Wharf;  the  distance  covered  was  somewhat  farther 
than  to  Liverpool.  Li  less  than  a  fortnight  I  had  passed 
from  the  snowy  hills  and  icy  blasts  of  Massachusetts  to 
the  luscious  fruits,  perennial  verdure  and  flowers  and 
balmy  airs  of  Madeira. 


232 


To  go  into  a  full  description  of  the  varied  and  superb 
scenery  of  Madeira,  of  my  happy  days  there,  or  my  en- 
joyment and  adventures,  would  require  a  separate  volume, 
and  hardly  comes  within  the  scope  of  this  work.  I  can 
only  touch  on  a  few  salient  points  here.  By  boat,  ham- 
mock carried  by  men,  by  sledge,  sliding  down  the  smooth- 
paved  mountain  slopes,  or  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  I 
left  but  few  spots  on  the  island  unvisited  and  unexplored. 
I  was  told  that  no  stranger  had  so  thoroughly  traversed 
Madeira  from  one  end  to  the  other  except  Sir  Charles 
Lyell  the  geologist,  and  certainly  the  tourists  who  now 
touch  for  a  few  hours  at  Madeira  never  see  much  of  its 
best.  There  is  this  special  advantage  attaching  to  an 
island  thirty  miles  long  by  nine  wide  over  a  continent, 
that,  however  varied  and  broken  its  scenery,  one  may 
hope  to  master  it  with  reasonable  thoroughness,  which 
is  clearly  impossible  with  a  continent,  even  though 
compassed  by  rail.  I  made  my  headquarters  for  a  time 
at  Funchal,  then  for  a  time  in  the  districts  of  San  Vin- 
cente,  Camacha,  Santa  Cruz,  and  especially  Santa  Anna, 
branching  thence  over  the  neighborhood  as  fancy  or  artis- 
tic impulse  inclined  me.  I  became  so  accustomed  to  tre- 
mendous precipices,  gruesome  ledges  where  one  could  drop 
a  stone  plumb  down  1,000  feet  or  more,  steep,  rocky,  de- 
scents, and  the  like,  both  on  foot  and  in  the  saddle,  that 
I  got  a  name  for  fool  hardiness.  As  I  am  naturally  pru- 
dent, and  disinclined  to  unusual  risks  unless  there  is  a 
positive  equivalent,  I  can  only  attribute  my  seeming  reck- 
lessness to  growing  familiarity  with  such  scenes,  which 
is  the  basis  of  most  physical  courage,  to  an  enthusiasm 
that  made  me  forget  everything  in  the  marvelous  loveli- 
ness and  grandeur  of  the  scenery,  and  to  a  certain  stimu- 
lant quality  in  the  air  acting  like  an  elixir. 

233 


Although  I  took  numerous  studies  and  sketches  which 
proved  useful  to  me,  the  chief  advantage  I  gained  from 
this  unbroken  contact  with  the  scenery  of  Madeira  was 
spiritual  and  subjective  more  than  material.  Everything 
is  massed  there  on  such  a  broad,  grandise  scale  that  one 
learns  to  consider  less  the  details  of  every  scene,  however 
exquisite,  and  to  view  things  in  the  large.  At  least  such 
was  the  effect  on  me,  I  think  from  that  time  my  mind  has 
surveyed  the  world  and  the  matters  and  problems  of  exis- 
tence from  a  different  standpoint ;  and  to  consider  re- 
sults rather  than  the  more  or  less  minute  and  interin- 
volved  processes  that  lead  to  them.  The  comparative  soli- 
tude in  which  many  of  my  days  at  Madeira  were  passed, 
wandering  and  reflecting  among  those  glorious  and  stupen- 
dous aspects  of  nature,  quite  apart  from  the  din  of  the 
busiest  age  since  the  creation,  as  it  were  in  the  legendary 
cycles  of  prehistoric  aeons,  led  me  unconsciously  to  revise 
my  trains  of  thought,  and  enter  on  new  methodi  and  as- 
pirations, which,  alas,  I  was  unable  to  follow  as  completely 
as  I  hoped,  when  plunged  again  into  the  seething  vortex  of 
innumerable  energies  on  my  return  to  the  western  world. 
Perhaps  it  is  this,  that  has  made  the  memory  of  my 
Madeira  life  so  indelible  and  fills  me  with  periodical  long- 
ing to  return  thither  for  my  closing  years. 

I  became  very  fond  of  the  people,  too,  the  courteous 
hospitality  of  the  upper  class  or  proprietarios,  and  the 
galliard  nature  and  respectful  manners  of  the  peasantry. 
However  needy,  they  were  outwardly  jolly  and  content, 
never  whined  for  alms,  served  faithfully,  without  grum- 
bling. The  tinkle  of  the  guitar  was  heard  at  all  hours 
along  the  country  roads,  showing  the  merry,  lighthearted 
disposition  of  these  hard  working  islanders. 

234 


The  months  I  passed  at  Santa  Anna  were  perhaps  the 
most  enjoyable,  although  for  out  and  out  perfection  of 
scenery,  the  finest  I  saw  there  or  anywhere  else,  was  that 
of  Valparaiso  or  the  Vale  of  Paradise,  some  2,500  feet 
above  the  sea.  I  lodged  at  Santa  Anna  at  the  simple,  but 
neat  hostel  of  Senor  Acciaoli,  chief  man  of  the  district, 
and  as  thorough  a  gentleman  as  ever  lived.  But  the  naive 
unconventionalism  of  life  there,  its  frank  adaptation  to 
local  conditions  and  natural  wants,  were  typified  by  a  droll 
incident  that  occurred  at  a  church  fair  one  Sunday  after- 
noon in  the  church  precincts.  The  parish  priest,  a  hand- 
some, young  man,  was  nephew  of  the  senor.  An  attrac- 
tive young  woman  was  gazing  from  the  window  of  the 
parsonage  at  the  festivities.  Aware  of  the  way  they  did 
things  in  Madeira,  I  said  without  hesitation  to  the  old 
gentleman,  "I  suppose  that  is  the  priest's  mistress?" 
Instead  of  glowering  at  me  as  one  would  have  done  in 
America  at  such  a  question,  the  uncle  took  it  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  simply  replied,  "No,  that  is  her  sister; 
his  mistress  has  gone  to  town  for  a  short  absence !"  In 
other  words,  they  realized  the  fact  at  Madeira  that  the 
priest  was  a  man.  The  only  reasonable  way  to  get  around 
the  dilemma  is  to  abolish  vows  of  celibacy,  leaving  to  each 
ecclesiastic  to  choose  or  avoid  it,  according  to  his  inclina- 
tions or  convictions.  The  clerical  laxity  winked  at  for 
ages  in  the  Latin  countries  appears  to  have  been  connived 
at,  on  some  such  tacit  grounds  and  palliations,  and  cer- 
tainly this  laxity  does  not  seem  to  have  extended  so  far, 
as  to  interfere  with  the  faithful  discharge  of  parochial 
duties. 

For  the  most  part  I  was  entirely  alone  at  Santa  Anna 
but,  yet  was  never  lonely.     Did  not  the  trade  winds  ever 


235 


waft  their  balmy  and  healthful  airs  around  that  gracious 
spot,  producing  a  temperature  so  even  that  for  forty 
years  the  mercury  had  not  fallen  below  sixty  nor  risen 
above  eighty  at  that  point?  Was  not  the  amethystine 
sea  ever  about  me  leaving  stupendous  cliffs  whichever  way 
I  turned?  Were  not  the  mountains,  the  idyllic  valleys, 
the  brawling  streams,  the  featherlike  cascades,  the  mar- 
velous cloud  pageantries,  ever  inviting  me  to  study  the 
poetry  of  nature,  and  listen  to  the  music  she  sang  to  the 
soul?  I  never  was  lonely  for  a  moment;  nay,  I  rather 
regretted  the  days  when  an  occasional  tourist  appeared, 
now,  perhaps,  a  Brazilian  count,  or  another  day  Lieuten- 
ant Henn,  famed  in  later  years  as  the  owner  of  Galatea, 
racer  for  the  Queen's  Cup.  However  agreeable  they 
proved  to  be,  they  jarred  on  my  moods  in  those  halcyon 
days. 

But  I  cannot  forget  that  I  came  near  leaving  my  bones 
at  Santa  Anna  in  a  ticklish  adventure.  The  northern 
coast  of  Madeira  is  everywhere  lofty  and  bold,  without 
harbor  or  anchorage.  Here  and  there  the  stubborn  face 
of  the  cliffs  receded  where  a  gulch  or  chasm  occurs,  on 
whose  edge  perhaps  perches  a  picturesque  hamlet.  But 
for  the  most  part  one  only  sees  tremendous  cliffs  reaching 
like  a  wall,  which  average  1,300  feet  in  height,  and  some- 
times soar  to  upwards  of  two  thousand  feet.  At  the  foot 
is  a  beach  of  similar  titanic  character,  composed  of  stones 
or  immense  boulders  that  have  fallen  from  the  disintegrat- 
ing precipices  during  the  ages,  and  which  continue  to  drop 
without  warning.  This  rugged  shore  is  forever  lashed  by 
the  huge  rollers  impelled  by  the  trade  winds.  The  bare- 
footed peasants  sometimes  pick  their  way  down  the 
crumbling   face   of   the   cliffs,   zigzaging   from   one   dizzy 


236 


shelf  to  another  in  search  of  herbage  for  their  animals  or 
of  help  and  shellfish.  Every  year  some  of  them  lost  their 
lives  however,  in  this  dangerous  task. 

About  where  my  lodging  stood  the  precipice  had  a  sheer 
descent  of  1,020  feet  by  barometrical  measurement.  The 
garden  wall  of  the  hamlet  skirted  the  very  edge  of  the 
precipice.  One  day  I  took  a  notion  to  scramble  down  to 
the  beach,  and  without  leaving  word  of  my  intention,  I  fol- 
lowed a  thin  tortuous  trail  in  places  scarce  wide  enough 
for  a  foothold,  and  treacherous  where  the  formation  was 
loose  rubble.  However,  I  reached  the  bottom  safely,  but 
was  awed  by  the  impressive  solitude.  Not  a  house  nor  a 
living  being  was  in  sight ;  only  the  beach  and  the  vast 
thundering  surf  on  one  side  extending  thirty  miles,  and 
the  appalling  cliff  wall  whose  highest  pinnacles  were 
wreathed  with  trailing  clouds. 

The  fall  of  a  large  stone  near  to  me,  leaping  from  a 
great  height,  and  the  incoming  tide,  reminded  me  that  it 
would  be  well  to  turn  homeward  or  rather  upward,  and 
then  I  realized  that  I  had  no  light  task  before  me.  By 
slow,  careful  steps  I  reached  somewhat  over  five  hundred 
feet  safely,  when  I  came  to  a  sharp  turn  in  the  path, 
where  the  inner  edge  of  the  trail  was  higher  than  the  outer 
edge,  the  trail  being  but  fifteen  to  eighteen  inches  wide;  at 
this  giddy  juncture  I  felt  the  loose  earth  start  carrying 
my  feet  towards  the  edge.  The  next  instant  I  should  have 
plunged  to  the  beach  below  if  I  had  not  dropped  on  my 
knees  and  dug  my  fingers  into  the  earth  above  me.  Hap- 
pily a  slight,  frail  bush  grew  just  within  my  reach.  It 
was  too  lightly  grounded  to  allow  me  to  pull  hard  on  it ; 
but  it  afforded  a  sort  of  moral  support  that  enabled  me 
to  collect  my  wits.     Slowly  reaching  out  my  hand  to  grasp 


237 


it,  I  was  able  to  check  the  slipping  over  movement  until  I 
could  consider  how  to  avoid  the  impending  destruction. 
Pivoting  myself  on  my  left  knee  and  hand,  I  then  grad- 
ually worked  my  right  knee  around,  the  earth  crumbling 
all  the  time  from  under  it,  until  I  could  lay  my  right  hand 
on  a  projecting  stone.  If  that  should  prove  merely  super- 
ficially imbedded,  I  was  lost.  By  great  good  luck  the 
stone  was  fairly  fixed  and  held  as  I  dragged  myself  by 
this  ticklish  means  around  the  corner  of  the  zigzag  to  a 
point  of  comparative  safety.  This  manoeuver,  which  had 
required  the  utmost  coolness  and  patience,  probably  took 
seven  or  eight  minutes,  although  at  the  time  it  seemed  an 
hour.  This  was  one  of  the  closest  escapes  from  violent 
death  in  my  experience.  The  next  time  I  descended  those 
precipices  I  did  not  venture  without  a  companion  and  a 
sheathed  rod. 

After  tarrying  at  Madeira,  for  nearly  eight  months  this 
time,  (a  sojourn  which  proved  an  era  in  my  life,)  I 
sailed  for  home  in  the  Ethan  Allen.  The  bark  was  in  bal- 
last, which  gives  rise  to  several  lively  experiences.  We 
were  struck  by  a  squall  off  Newfoundland,  and  the  hatches 
having  been  carelessly  left  open  and  the  vessel  knocked 
down  to  her  beam  ends,  she  came  near  filling  and  going 
to  the  bottom.  I  ran  forward  to  let  go  the  foretopsail 
halliards.  The  cabin  boy,  who  was  carrying  a  pail  of 
water,  slipped  down  as  she  careened  and  threw  me  off 
my  balance  just  as  I  cast  off  the  halliards.  My  leg  was 
caught  in  the  coil,  and  only  by  extreme  agility  did  I 
save  the  limb  or  escape  being  hoisted  to  the  foretop  as  the 
heavy  yard  and  sail  thundered  down.  Life  in  an  old  time 
sailing  ship  abounded  with  such  exciting  incidents.  Off 
Scutari,  while  working  up  to   Sydney,   Cape   Breton   Is- 


238 


land,  \Ae  encountered  a  heavy  November  gale.  When  the 
wind  shifted  into  nor'west  with  terrific  fury  it  did  so 
after  a  lull  of  several  hours,  quite  an  unusual  circum- 
stance, as  the  lull  in  such  cases  is  generally  brief.  Hence 
we  had  again  made  sail,  and  were  taken  aback  under  a 
dangerous  spread  of  canvas.  For  a  square-rigger  to  be 
taken  aback  in  a  storm  is  one  of  the  greatest  perils  of  the 
sea  life.  We  could  not  sway  the  wet,  heavy  sails  around, 
glued  as  they  were  to  the  masts  by  the  awful  power  of 
the  blast,  and  the  ship  would  not  pay  off  until  the  after- 
sail  was  lowered.  But  the  spanker  stuck  and  Avould  not 
come  down.  The  bark  would  have  foundered  stern  fore- 
most in  the  angry  sea  that  began  to  tower  over  the  stern 
if  one  of  the  men  had  not  sprung  up  one  of  the  mast 
hoops.  I  followed  after  him  and  by  our  united  weight  we 
started  the  sail.  It  came  down  on  the  run,  and  the  ship 
payed  off,  came  under  control,  and  was  saved. 

As  the  Ethan  Allen  was  going  to  load  coal  at  Sydney 
for  the  West  Indies,  I  availed  myself  gladly  of  the  offer 
of  a  bunk  in  one  of  our  saucy,  old-fashioned  fishing 
schooners  bound  from  the  Grand  Banks  to  Gloucester. 
The  Anna  Maria,  Jewett,  skipper,  was  but  sixty  feet 
long,  her  little  cuddy  was  crowded  with  fourteen  men,  and 
it  was  just  on  the  edge  of  winter,  with  plenty  of  cold, 
foul  weather  to  be  expected.  But  all  this  promised  to  add 
zest  to  the  home  stretch.  I  must  admit,  however,  that 
the  first  whiff  of  mephitic  air  below  was  almost  too  much, 
even  for  my  well  seasoned  nostrils  and  stomach,  a  stom- 
ach, I  may  add,  that  always  had  a  voracious  appetite  at 
sea,  that  has  never  known  the  qualms  of  mal  de  mer  nor 
lost  a  meal  on  either  salt  or  fresh  water.  The  cabin 
reeked  with  the  fumes  of  the  soft  coal  from  the  usually 

239 
16 


red  hot  cylinder  stove,  to  which  must  be  added  the  stench 
of  bilge  water  under  the  floor,  of  barrels  packed  with 
fish  and  the  intolerable  effluvia  of  stale  fish  gurry  ac- 
cumulated by  months  on  the  banks.  The  garbage  tub 
stood  by  the  stove,  the  men  turiied  in  in  their  wet  boots 
and  clothes,  two  in  a  bunk,  and  there  was  a  large  dog 
besides.  One  can  form  a  faint  idea,  perhaps,  from  these 
details,  of  the  atmosphere  of  an  apartment  barely  four- 
teen by  twelve  In  size,  under  such  circumstances.  The 
tobacco  smoke  doubtless  somewhat  deodorized  the  seem- 
ingly pestiferous  odors,  still  my  experience  there  and 
elsewhere,  convinces  me  that  it  is  hard  to  kill  one  by  bad 
smells  alone,  especially  when  neutralized  by  bracing  salt 
air  on  deck.  Anyway,  I  was  soon  accustomed  to  the  con- 
ditions of  life  on  the  schooner,  and  have  rarely  enjoyed 
myself  more.  The  true  way  for  your  genuine  adventurer 
to  enjoy  the  rough  and  tumble  of  life  is  not  to  kick  or  set 
up  as  a  reformer,  whereby  he  makes  everyone  uncomfort- 
able, and  is  regarded  askance  as  a  tenderfoot  and  inter- 
loper, but  to  place  himself  without  blinking,  en  rapport 
with  his  environment.  As  I  have  always  acted  on  this 
principle,  probably  this  is  a  chief  reason  why  I  have 
gained  so  much  pleasure  out  of  travel  and  got  the  best 
there  is  out  of  sea  life. 

We  were  three  weeks  from  Sydney  to  Gloucester,  pass- 
ing, at  the  outset  through  the  famous  Bras  d'or,  a  sheet 
of  water  then  unknown  to  American  tourists.  The  glor- 
ious tints  of  autumn  still  lingered  on  the  foliage  and  the 
weather  was  practically  serene  on  that  noble  sheet  of 
water.  We  met  many  picturesque  characters  of  Gaelic 
stock  at  places  where  we  touched  or  anchored  at  night- 
fall, and  received  much  genial  hospitality.     If  I  had  been 


240 


a  jolly  bachelor,  I  might  have  lost  my  heart  to  some  of 
the  blooming,  passionate  lasses  of  that  romantic  region, 
several  of  whom  still  linger  pleasantly  in  my  memory. 
The  canal  at  St.  Peters  had  recently  been  completed,  and 
through  it  we  passed  out  on  the  broad  Atlantic.  The 
effect  presented  by  the  fleet  of  schooners  anchored  at  St. 
Peters  for  the  night,  with  lights  in  their  rigging  and  stars 
gleaming  superbly  above,  and  reflected  in  the  dark  wave 
below,  still  comes  before  me  like  a  scene  in  fairyland. 

But  we  saw  no  more  such  scenes  on  that  voyage.  For 
we  now  entered  on  a  succession  of  squalls  and  gales,  of 
reefing  and  lying  to,  of  decks  swept  fore  and  aft  by 
mountain  surges,  of  scuppers  buried  in  a  smother  of 
foam,  of  ice  forming  where  the  spray  fell,  and  of  running 
into  this  or  that  port  for  a  haven  of  refuge.  But  we 
reached  Gloucester  safely  at  last  on  a  mild  Sabbath  after- 
noon. 


241 


CHAPTER    X. 

FROM  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  TO  THE  BAHAMAS. 

In  the  spring  of  IST-l  it  was  suggested  to  me  to  go  to 
Nassau,  Bahama  Islands,  to  write  them  up  in  the  interests 
of  the  Royal  Victoria  Hotel,  recently  purchased  by 
Grover  Cleveland,  later  President  of  the  United  States, 
and  his  brother,  who  was  aftenvards  lost  in  the  steamer 
that  was  burned  off  Abaco.  As  it  presented  an  oppor- 
tunity for  fresh  sea  studies,  and  as  it  was  now  evident 
that  the  Chicago  Fire,  where  my  wife  and  I,  lost  prop- 
erty was  to  throw  me  entirely  on  my  own  exertions  for 
some  years,  I  accepted  the  proposal.  But  I  did  so,  on 
the  condition  that  my  expenses  thither  and  back  should 
in  any  event  be  paid  me,  and  that  I  should  not  be  ex- 
pected to  prepare  the  article  unless  I  found  the  Royal 
Victoria  Hotel  to  be  an  establishment  altogether  worthy 
to  be  recommended  to  the  public ;  and  finally  that  the 
article  should  be  in  substance  an  account  of  the  Bahamas, 
with  incidental  allusions  to  the  hotel.  Mr.  Cleveland  ar- 
ranged with  Harper's  Monthly  to  publish  the  paper. 

I  met  Grover  Cleveland  on  the  day  of  sailing  at  Mr. 
Ligerwood's  store  on  Broadway,  near  4th  St.  I  think, 
and  we  sampled  some  of  the  best  rye  whiskey  in  the 
country.     The  interview  was  free  and  easy,  but  I  gained 

242 


from  it  that  he  was  a  man  scrupulously  careful  and  sys- 
tematic in  business  matters,  but  in  other  respects  what  one 
would  call  a  thoroughly  good  fellow.  I  question  whether 
the  idea  of  becoming  Governor  of  New  York  had  even 
entered  his  brain  at  that  time,  much  less  the  captivating, 
tantalizing  dream  of  becoming  the  master  of  the  White 
House,  to  which  so  many  think  they  are  called  while  so 
few  are  chosen.  On  my  return  from  Persia,  which  was 
due  to  the  Democratic  party  coming  into  power,  I  called 
to  pay  my  respects  to  President  Cleveland  on  one  of  his 
reception  days.  Although  ten  years  had  elapsed,  he 
recognized  me  at  a  glance,  out  of  a  throng  of  those  who 
were  waiting  to  shake  hands  with  him ;  this  seemed  to  me 
an  evidence  of  a  born  fitness  for  high  position,  as  the 
recollection  of  faces,  has  always  been  one  of  the  traits  pe- 
culiar, if  not  universal,  to  men  prominent  in  public  life. 
Drawing  me  aside  to  a  corner  of  the  apartment,  the  Presi- 
dent chatted  pleasantly  for  some  time,  asking  information 
and  advice  in  regard  to  Persia,  and  the  sort  of  man  to  ap- 
point in  my  place.  He  also  requested  me  to  call  on  Mr. 
Bayard,  his  self-sufficient  although,  sometimes  inefficient 
secretary  of  state,  and  repeat  to  the  latter  the  substance 
of  what  I  had  just  said  to  the  President.  I  may  add  here 
that  when  I  did  call  accordingly,  on  Mr.  Bayard,  I  found 
in  a  very  few  moments  what  I  already  surmised,  that  he 
desired  neither  information  or  advice  from  a  Republican. 
Verhum  Sap!  The  first  remark  of  Mr.  Cleveland  to  me 
on  this  occasion  was,  "We  have  met  before,"  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye  as  he  said  it.  To  this  I  replied,  "Yes,  Mr. 
President,  and  perhaps  neither  of  us  thought  then,  that 
the  next  time  we  should  shake  hands  would  be  in  the 
AVhite  House."  He  responded  by  a  mysterious   smile,  as 


243 


if  to  saj,  "you  cannot  expect  me  to  give  myself  away  by 
conceding  that  my  election  to  the  governorship  of  New 
York  and  my  subsequent  election  to  this  position  was  the 
result  of  the  split  in  the  Republican  party  in  New  York, 
and  the  manipulation  of  ballots  by  Tammany  rather  than 
the  climax  of  a  livelong,  well-laid  plan  directed  by  lofty 
ambition  and  crowned  by  the  success  due  to  a  patriotic  ef- 
fort and  merit !" 

There  is  a  curious  and  important  state  secret  connected 
with  Mr.  Cleveland's  second  administration,  which  would 
have  made  a  sensation  of  the  first  magnitude  if  revealed 
at  the  time,  and  in  such  event  would  have  affected  his 
plans  materially,  even  if  disavowed,  as  of  course  it  would 
have  been.  But  I  can  do  no  more  than  allude  to  it  here, 
as  I  learned  of  it  in  such  a  way  that  my  honor  is  pledged 
to  divulge  nothing  while  a  certain  party  is  living. 

My  return  from  Persia — being  a  Republican — was  due 
to  the  coming  of  Mr.  Cleveland  and  the  Democrats  into 
power ;  and  there  is  no  doubt,  likewise,  that  his  rapid  rise 
from  being  sheriff  of  Buffalo  to  the  highest  position  in 
the  New  World,  was  immediately  due  to  what  looks  like 
stupendous  luck.  Notwithstanding  these  facts,  candor 
obliges  me  to  admit  that  Grover  Cleveland  was  a  man  of 
very  great  ability,  standing  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
chief  contemporary  leaders  of  his  party,  in  fitness  for  the 
position  he  has  occupied.  I  do  not  think  him  a  statesman 
in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  nor  was  he  widely  in- 
formed when  he  passed  from  Buffalo  to  Albany.  His 
political  honesty  was  not  above  par,  nor  was  he  capable 
in  those  days,  at  least,  of  warming  to  the  glow  of  exalted 
patriotism.  His  record  shows  this ;  his  most  important 
appointments  were  generally  given  to  men  who  had  fought 


244 


against  the  flag,  although  it  was  still  proper  that  they 
should  hold  back  seats.  However,  advantageous  as  par- 
tisan policy,  such  a  course  as  regards  foreign  appoint- 
ments and  the  position  of  secretary  of  state,  was  in  poor 
taste  and  unjust  to  the  north  which  has  fought  to  pre- 
serve the  nation.  I  question  whether  Mr.  Cleveland  took 
much  interest  in  the  sacrifices  and  triumphs  of  the  heroes 
who  saved  the  Republic,  of  which  he  eventuall}^  became  the 
head.  He  never  alluded  to  the  subject  except  to  reduce 
pensions  and  return  rebel  flags.  But  he  was  shrewd  to  a 
degree,  was  rich  in  sterling  common  sense,  w^as  a  wonder- 
ful manipulator  of  political  wires,  had  a  genius  for  par- 
tisan politics,  was  well  grounded  on  sound  financial  prin- 
ciples, had  convictions  of  his  own  and  noble  firmness  in 
maintaining  them,  and  as  a  private  citizen  he  has  exhib- 
ited good  average  integrity.  That  he  liked  his  glass  and 
a  good  time  occasionally,  is  nothing  against  him,  perhaps 
rather  in  his  favor.  I  am  inclined  to  feel  more  suspicious 
of  the  man  who  never  has  (or  professes  never  to  have) 
such  inclinations  than  of  the  one  who  is  human,  and  does. 
So  long  as  one  fills  his  public  duties  acceptably,  it  is  no- 
body's business  Avhat  he  does  as  an  individual,  short  of 
breaking  the  laws. 

I  had  had  other  interviews  with  our  presidents  at  the 
White  House.  One  was  President  Arthur,  whom  I  met 
several  times  officially,  before  going  to  Persia,  as  he 
signed  my  commission.  He  was  exceedingly  afl'able,  as 
was  characteristic  of  him,  but  he  impressed  me  as  being 
possessed  of  more  heart  than  head,  of  a  warm,  kindly, 
emotional  nature  and  of  good,  but  not  unusual  intellectual 
or  commanding  character.  He  was  strikingly  handsome, 
however,  and  his  manner  was  more  that  of  the  polished 


245 


gentleman  of  the  world  than  of  any  American  president 
since  the  early  history  of  the  Republic  that  I  have  met  or 
known. 

President  Hayes  was  refined  and  courteous  although 
not  courtly,  to  which  was  added  a  subtle  suggestion  of 
self-reliance  and  power,  if  need  were  to  express  it,  which 
Arthur  seemed  to  me  to  lack.  In  appearance  and  manner 
Hayes  reminded  one  of  the  better  class  of  our  college 
presidents,  or  the  cultured  prosperous  pastor  of  a 
prominent  metropolitan  church.  The  soldier  element  in 
him,  was  apparent  only  in  his  erect  carriage  and  the  alert, 
eagle  glance  of  his  eye.  They  were  blue-grey,  and  while 
habitually  of  mild  expression,  they  would  on  occasion 
flash  with  keen  intensity,  and  pierce  through  one,  like  a 
falchion.  I  can  imagine  he  looked  that  way,  in  battle. 
Owing  to  the  issue  raised  about  his  election,  and  the  con- 
sequent intolerable  abuse  cast  on  him  and  his  administra- 
tion. President  Hayes  has  never  received  the  just  meed 
of  appreciation  which  was  emphatically  his  due.  A  man 
of  the  highest  probity  and  the  purest  patriotism,  he  also 
possessed  decision  of  character  and  abounding  common 
sense.  My  brother,  Charles  Alfred  Benjamin,  who  en- 
tered the  Army  of  the  Potomac  at  sixteen,  and  served 
with  credit  in  the  brilliant  campaigns  of  the  Shenandoah 
Valley,  and  had  frequent  opportunities  to  see  Hayes' 
brigade,  both  in  camp  and  in  action,  told  me  that  there 
was  no  brigade  in  Sheridan's  army  better  handled,  better 
disciplined,  and  more  creditable  to  the  service  and  its 
conmiander.  Others  who  were  near  to  President  Hayes 
for  many  years  and  knew  him  well  have  also  informed  me 
that  he  was  gifted  with  a  fund  of  general  information  un- 
equalled, perhaps,  by  any  of  our  presidents,  and  that  the 


246 


range  of  his  tastes  and  observations  was  unusually  ex- 
tensive. For  example  he  took  a  great  interest  in  ornithol- 
ogy ;  if  one  were  out  riding  or  walking  with  him  in  the 
country,  he  would  call  attention  to  facts  in  regard  to 
American  birds  often  original  to  himself,  or  known  only 
to  a  few  professional  ornithologists.  It  may  have  been 
this  circumstance,  that  suggested  to  Mrs.  Hayes  to  have 
a  service  of  china  made  for  the  White  House  decorated 
with  designs  of  the  birds  of  the  United  States,  by 
Theodore  R.  Davis,  whom  I  knew  well.  Davis  was  a 
singular  and  picturesque  character,  with  something  of 
the  Indian  about  his  look  and  bearing.  But  that  is  an- 
other story ! 

I  happened  to  be  in  London,  and  at  the  American  rooms 
in  Charing  Cross,  Avhen  the  news  of  General  Hayes'  nomi- 
nation was  flashed  across  the  cable.  Having  recently  ar- 
rived from  the  States,  I  was  asked  by  those  present,  what 
was  the  forecast  for  his  election.  Having  made  two  close 
and  correct  guesses  about  the  canvas  of  IMcClellan  and 
Greele}'^,  I  ventured  on  a  third  after  reflecting  a  moment, 
saying,  "It  will  be  the  closest  election  in  our  history ;"  and 
such  it  proved,  as  everyone  knows.  This  result  was  due 
to  the  desperate  claims  set  up  by  the  Democrats,  although 
there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  slaughter  of  Re- 
publican citizens  in  Louisiana  and  South  Carolina  vitiated 
the  electoral  votes  of  those  States,  through  which  the  elec- 
tion of  Tilden  was  asserted. 

I  met  President  Hayes  several  times  at  the  White 
House,  always  to  be  greeted  with  a  pleasant  word.  One 
morning  he  invited  me  to  his  private  office  called  the  South 
Room,  I  believe,  and  conversed  with  me  for  half  an  hour. 
Among  other  matters,  he  informed  me  that  he  had  made  a 


247 


special  study  of  the  history  and  legends  of  the  White 
House.  Among  other  facts  he  related  how  the  meridian 
of  Washington  was  established.  When  the  question  was 
mooted  the  commissioners  called  on  President  Jefferson 
to  ask  his  advice.  They  were  conferring  in  the  same 
apartment  where  we  were  talking.  "Well,  gentlemen," 
exclaimed  Jefferson,  "Why  not  draw  the  line  of  the  merid- 
ian right  through  the  middle  of  this  room.'"'  They  ac- 
cepted the  suggestion  at  once,  and  the  line  accordingly 
bisects  the  White  House  and  Sixteenth  Street,  running 
directly  north  from  the  presidential  mansion. 

It  was  intimated  to  me  through  a  friend  that  the  con- 
sulate at  Bucharest,  afterwards  elevated  with  Athens  to  a 
legation,  might  be  given  me,  on  formal  application.  But 
while  very  grateful  to  President  Hayes,  I  desired  to  stay 
at  home  for  the  reasons  that  led  me  to  decline  similar  for- 
eign appointments  on  two  occasions.  I  was  not  by  nature 
an  office  holder  as  I  might  have  been  if  our  foreign  ser- 
vice were  a  profession  for  life.  The  tenure  of  our  foreign 
service  is  too  precarious,  the  expense  exceeds  the  salary, 
if  one  is  sufficiently  patriotic  to  sustain  such  a  position 
as  it  should  be;  the  wire  pulling  essential  in  securing 
nomination  and  confirmation  was  exceedingly  distasteful 
to  me,  an  office  holder  is  at  the  beck  and  call  of  those  above 
him,  and  is  liable  to  suffer  the  abuse  of  an  unbridled  press 
on  the  slightest  cause ;  and  finally,  I  was  at  that  time 
fully  occupied  with  pursuits  more  or  less  congenial  and 
which  gave  a  fair  livelihood  if  public  and  publishers  con- 
tinued their  patronage. 

My  stay  of  six  weeks  at  the  Bahamas  was  sufficiently 
agreeable  and  not  painfully  laborious.  The  gathering 
of  data  for  my  article  or  of  studies  for  my  easel  Avas  more 


248 


in  the  nature  of  play  than  of  work.  As  everyone  was 
anxious  to  have  the  Islands  exploited  everyone  was  cour- 
teous and  hospitable.  I  was  invited  repeatedly  to  break- 
fasts and  balls  at  the  Government  house,  took  brandy  and 
soda  with  the  officers  of  the  garrison  or  of  the  warships, 
on  latticed  piazzas  shaded  with  flowering  vines ;  or  sat 
till  the  small  hours  at  solemn,  old-fashioned  whist-parties, 
while  a  black  waiter  in  livery  offered  us  toothsome  re- 
freshments at  intervals  between  the  games.  Having  been 
with  the  English  more  or  less  all  my  life,  and  liking  them 
about  as  well  as  our  own  Yankee  folk,  I  got  along  with 
them  perfectly  well  on  this  occasion.  Sir  John  Pope  Hen- 
nesey,  the  governor,  afterwards  governor  at  Hong  Kong, 
was  suave,  polite,  and  agreeable;  not  very  heavy  timber, 
I  fancy,  but  gifted  with  a  flexible  spine,  and  understand- 
ing the  supreme  art  for  one  who  would  rise  without  com- 
manding genius,  of  identif3'ing  himself  with  the  designs, 
character  and  especially  the  weaknesses,  of  his  superiors. 
Lady  Hennesey  impressed  one  as  rather  more  genuine, 
with  more  heart  if  not  with  more  brains.  She  was  said  to 
be  the  daughter  of  a  French  colonial  governor  and  a  Chi- 
nese lady,  and  born  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa.  Tall, 
slender,  graceful  as  a  palm  of  her  own  native  shore,  her 
pale  slightly  yellow  features  were  mobile  and  refined,  sug- 
gesting a  capacity  for  suffering  which  I  sincerely  hope 
was  never  put  to  the  test,  for  she  was  certainly  an  un- 
usually attractive  woman. 

At  the  Royal  Victoria  Hotel  I  became  acquainted  also 
with  Mrs.  General  John  C.  Fremont,  famous  in  ante  hel- 
ium days  as  Jessie.  She  bore  herself  with  the  hauteur  of 
one  who  had  won,  rather  than  lost,  in  that  great  presi- 
dential contest ;  and  whv  should  she  not,  with  the  blond 


249 


of  Thomas  Benton  coursing  in  her  veins?  But  although 
rather  more  snobbish  to  those  she  considered  her  infer- 
iors, than  comports  with  the  real  lady,  she  could  also  be 
exceedingly  affable  and  magnetic.  Her  regard  for  the 
general,  who  was  one  of  the  handsomest,  if  not  the  great- 
est of  men,  was  little  less  than  idolatry.  I  still  have  or 
had,  some  years  since,  a  rose,  (somewhat  withered  it  is 
true,)  which  she  gracefully  presented  me  at  the  close  of  a 
pleasant  call  on  her  and  the  general,  at  their  residence 
in  New  York. 

An  amusing  incident  happened  to  me  at  Nassau,  which 
reminded  me  of  the  well  known  story  of  the  French  of- 
ficer who  sought  the  camp  of  an  Arab  chieftain  to  buy 
a  noted  mare  for  the  stables  of  the  Emperor.  I  was  anx- 
ious to  paint  one  of  the  superb  fish  of  those  waters  which 
are  a  rich  turquoise  blue  verging  to  brown  on  the  belly  and 
to  coral  and  vermilion  around  the  mouth.  I  offered  a 
good  price  for  the  first  one  brought  to  me  directly  out 
of  the  water.  One  afternoon  a  sound  of  heavy  steps  was 
heard  in  the  corridor  leading  to  my  room,  followed  by  a 
bold  knock  on  the  door.  On  opening  it  I  saw  Sampson, 
the  six-foot  black  boatman,  a  well-known  character  of 
Nassau,  holding  up  a  splendid  specimen  of  blue  fish.  Im- 
mediately I  sat  down  to  make  a  careful  study  of  this  mag- 
nificent model.  As  I  had  not  quite  finished  when  twi- 
light began,  I  sent  the  fish  down  to  the  ice  chest  of  the 
hotel  to  be  kept  until  morning.  After  })reakfast  I  ordered 
the  blue  fish  to  be  brought  again  to  my  room.  To  my 
chagrin  I  was  told  that  it  had  been  served  up  to  me  with 
my  coffee! 

Of  course  there  was  no  end  of  delightful  sea  picnics  in 
the  waters  adjacent  to  Nassau  and  some  exciting  racing 


250 


with  small  yachts,  for  the  weather  and  scenery  were  de- 
licious for  the  former,  and  the  sharks  that  abounded 
acted  as  no  deterrent  to  the  latter.  But  my  most  agree- 
able days  at  the  Bahamas  were  passed  on  a  cruise  among 
some  of  the  islands  east  of  Nassau  in  a  forty-foot 
schooner.  Nothing  unusually  exciting  occurred  during 
this  little  voyage,  but  it  was  so  replete  with  an  indescrib- 
able charm,  so  full  of  details  enchanting  to  one  who  en- 
joys that  sort  of  pleasure,  that  I  refrain  from  saying 
more  about  it  here,  lest  I  should  not  know  when  to  stop. 
The  entire  cruise  was  a  poem  of  dreamland. 

The  following  summer  I  passed  at  home  with  my  family, 
with  the  exception  of  short  cmises  on  the  coast  to  avoid 
hay  fever  from  which  I  was  an  acute  sufferer  during  the 
warm  season  whenever  away  from  the  sea  in  our  country. 
As  winter  approached  I  went  back  to  my  studies  in  Bos- 
ton ;  but  I  had  barely  painted  two  or  three  pictures  when 
a  received  a  letter  from  the  editor  of  Harper's  Monthly 
suggesting  another  expedition.  He  wrote  that  the 
Scribner's  Magazine,  announced  some  articles  on  the 
Channel  Islands  and  the  adjacent  coast,  to  appear 
within  certain  months  not  far  distant.  As  the  business 
rivalry,  (an  absurd  feature  of  literary  enterprises,)  was 
at  that  time  very  sharp  between  the  two  periodicals,  and 
as  articles  of  travel  were  then  a  special  feature  (which 
they  have  long  ceased  to  be).  Harper's  wanted  to  know 
whether  I  could  guarantee  papers  on  the  aforesaid  sub- 
ject in  time  to  appear  in  each  case,  a  month  ahead  of 
Scribner's.  But,  in  such  a  case,  I  must  take  the  next 
boat  for  England ;  not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost.  Fond 
as  I  was  of  travel  and  adventure,  I  must  admit  that  in 
the    present    instance    I    preferred    to    stay    at    home.      I 


251 


wished  to  paint  several  more  of  my  many  subjects  and 
sketches,  while  the  impressions  were  still  vivid.  My  dear 
wife,  also,  was  in  declining  health  and  needed  me  near  her, 
and  the  childhood  of  our  little  daughter  was  passing,  and 
I  was  not  with  her  to  enjoy  it.  It  is  true  that  what  direct 
returns  my  articles  brought  me  from  these  trips  paid  but 
moderate  profit  above  my  travelling  expenses,  and  those 
expenses  had  to  be  advanced  out  of  my  own  pocket,  such 
is  often  the  way  of  the  publisher  with  his  contributor. 
But  I  made  something  additional  by  side  articles  and  lec- 
tures of  travel,  and  by  the  subjects  suggested  for  my 
brush;  hence  on  the  whole,  my  journeys  were  fairly  profit- 
able. To  this,  must  be  added  the  fact  that  being  then  "in 
the  swim,"  I  was  able  to  raise  my  terms  with  each  suc- 
ceeding trip,  while  all  the  time  I  was  looking  ahead  to 
winning  positions  or  high  prices  for  painting,  whereby  to 
emancipate  myself  from  writing  for  periodicals,  whose 
limitations,  rules,  editorial  supervision  as  well  as  the  dic- 
tating tastes  of  a  variable  public,  I  found  somewhat  gall- 
ing. Naturally  of  independent  spirit,  it  was  with  hesita- 
tion that  I  submitted  any  article  to  an  editor.  From  the 
very  first  and  s-till  more  as  my  maturing  opinions  grew 
more  emphatic,  I  lived  in  hope  of  reaching  the  point  of 
being  entirely  independent  of  newspapers  and  periodicals, 
writing  only  books  and  painting  pictures  to  please  myself 
first,  and  the  public  afterwards.  When  it  happened,  as  it 
did  sometimes,  that  the  subject  of  an  article  was  entirely 
congenial,  then  and  then  only,  was  I  quite  satisfied  to 
pursue  the  lot  assigned  to  me. 

In  the  present  instance  I  assented  more  willingly  per- 
haps, than  sometimes,  to  the  behest  or  stress  of  destiny, 
because  I  had  wished  to  visit  the  places  mentioned,  and 


252 


also  saw  a  means  thereby  to  carry  out  certain  other  ob- 
jects I  had  in  view.  Hence  I  accepted  the  agreeable  pro- 
posal of  Harper's  Magazine,  conditioned  on  receiving 
an  adequate  sum  for  each  article,  photographs  being  paid 
for,  on  space  rates,  and  drafts  being  remitted  by  return 
mail  on  receipt  of  each  article.  I  then  flew  around  to  the 
office  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  and  engaged  three  other 
articles  on  other  subjects,  to  be  paid  for  in  advance. 
Then  I  hastened  to  the  office  of  the  Boston  branch  of  the 
Cunard  Line  and  engaged  passage  on  the  boat  leaving  the 
next  morning.  I  had  barely  time  after  accomplishing 
these  arrangements  to  catch  the  train  to  Brookfield, 
seventy  miles  up  the  State,  where  my  family  were.  There 
I  packed  my  trunk,  bade  farewell  to  them,  took  a  late 
train  back,  and  at  six  a.  m.,  less  than  twenty-four  hours 
after  receiving  the  Harpers'  letter,  I  was  on  board  the 
steamship  Samaria,  Captain  Roberts,  steaming  past  Bos- 
ton Light  bound  to  Liverpool,  on  a  six  months'  trip. 

One  little  incident  of  this  voyage  I  often  recall  with  un- 
qualified pleasure  for  having  the  moral  courage  to  per- 
form a  necessary  but  disagreeable  duty.  As  it  was  the 
cold  season,  the  Captain's  table  accommodated  most  of 
the  first  class  passengers,  who  were  chiefly  English  and 
German  with  a  sprinkling  of  Americans.  I  sat  next  to 
Captain  Roberts,  on  his  left.  Opposite  to  me  at  his  right, 
was  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  monosyllabic 
name,  who  did  not  delay  to  inform  us  by  their  manner 
and  conversation  that  they  were  from  Boston  and  mem- 
bers of  an  exclusive  set  of  the  upper  swelldom.  They  con- 
fined their  attention  and  conversation  to  the  Captain. 
After  the  custom  of  a  certain  class  of  soi-distant  auto- 
cratic   Bostonians,    the    lii^c    of    whom,    this    country    has 


253 


quite  too  large  a  share,  they  thought  to  display  their 
superiority  by  lauding  foreign  customs  and  criticizing 
their  own  country,  its  government,  people,  cuisine,  and 
the  like.  This  they  did,  not  once,  but  perpetually,  en- 
tirely regardless  of  the  foreigners  present.  The  latter 
as  well  as  the  Americans  listened  with  amazement.  Cap- 
tain Roberts  himself  seemed  annoyed  by  this  impropriety. 
He  sometimes  ventured  to  qualify  the  diatribes  by  a  few 
words  commendatory  of  America. 

After  this  had  continued  for  some  days,  I  felt  that  the 
time  had  come  to  speak  out  and  administer  the  rebuke 
these  fellow-countrymen  so  richly  deserved. 

"You  will  pardon  me,"  said  I  one  day,  "over  the  wal- 
nuts and  the  wine,"  and  looking  squarely  at  the  offenders, 
"if  I  say  a  word  apropos  of  the  steady  praise  of  foreigners 
and  the  unstinted  abuse  of  our  own  country  which  we  have 
heard  since  we  sailed  from  Boston.  You  have  forgotten 
to  mention  perhaps,  one  praise-worthy  quality  in  which 
all  foreigners  excel.  Whatever  causes  of  discontent  the 
English,  French,  Germans,  Russians,  or  other  peoples 
may  have  against  their  own  government  and  people,  their 
patriotism  is  so  transcendent,  their  esprit  du  corps  so 
true,  that  they  rarely  deliberately  and  consciously  air  the 
soiled  linen  of  their  own  country  in  the  presence  of  for- 
eigners." 

The  effort  to  say  this  on  my  part,  was  so  severe  that 
every  nerve  in  me  trembled.  The  ladies  blushed,  the 
gentlemen  turned  white  with  rage  and  mortification.  But 
they  answered  not  a  word ;  and  from  that  hour  until  w^e 
reached  Liverpool  not  a  syllable  was  uttered  against 
America  by  the  D's  or  any  one  else  at  that  table.  When 
we  adjourned  from  dinner  to  the  deck  the  other  passen- 


254 


gers  gathered  around  me,  shook  me  heartily  by  the  hand, 
and  thanked  me.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  that  scene.  As 
for  Captain  Roberts,  he  came  up  to  me  in  turn,  and  said, 
"My  dear  sir,  you  did  nobly.  I  myself  did  not  half  like 
what  those  countrymen  of  yours  have  been  saying.  They 
deserved  what  they  got,  and  I'm.  glad  you  gave  it  to  them. 
And  now  let  me  say  before  I  go  forward,  that  my  state- 
room, charts  and  books  are  entirely  at  your  service,  when- 
ever you  like  to  use  them ;  come  when  you  like,  and  make 
yourself  at  home  in  my  cabin  for  the  rest  of  the  passage." 

It  is  worth  mentioning  that  ten  or  twelve  years  after 
this  occasion,  when  my  family  were  returning  from  Europe 
the  same  Captain  Roberts  was  in  command.  Attracted  by 
the  name,  he  asked  them  if  they  were  related  to  me;  on 
their  replying  in  the  affirmative,  he  repeated  this  incident 
to  them,  saying  that  it  had  made  an  indelible  impression 
on  his  memory.  I  heard  of  this  incident  also,  when  in 
Bermuda  long  after,  from  a  gentleman  visiting  the  is- 
lands ;  on  hearing  my  name,  he  inquired  if  I  was  the  man 
who,  as  he  had  been  told,  had  defended  the  fair  name  of  his 
country  on  a  Cunard  steamer. 

The  offensive  class  represented  by  the  D's  is  offset,  by 
another,  quite  as  illbred,  although  better  natured.  It  is 
composed  of  those  Americans  who  make  an  ostentatious 
display  of  their  patriotism,  and  brag  on  every  occasion  of 
their  country  and  its  achievements.  Good  breeding  sug- 
gests, that  before  foreigners  or  strangers  generally,  one 
should  neither  announce  or  denounce  or  deny  his  country, 
ancestors,  or  religion,  unless  for  special  cause.  These  are 
matters  that  can  take  care  of  themselves. 

I  arrived  at  the  Channel  Islands  in  December.  Al- 
though the  temperature  was  far  milder  than  that  of  Xew 

255 
17 


England  at  that  season,  yet  it  was  unusually  severe  for 
those  waters.  I  had  the  questionable  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  first  snow,  known  at  Jersey  for  many  years,  and  visit- 
ing Mount  Orgeuil  Castle  when  it  was  robed  in  a  mantle 
of  ermine.  Although  I  enjoyed  some  charming  days  there, 
yet  I  encountered  some  terrific  weather  in  going  from  one 
island  to  another,  and  saw  the  fiercest  waves  the  Atlantic 
ever  raises.  I  shall  never  forget  the  morning  we  ran  out 
of  St.  Heliers.  Only  two  or  three  passengers  ventured 
out  in  the  staunch  steam  packet.  We  shipped  a  broad- 
side sea  as  we  turned  westward  from  the  mouth  of  the 
port  that  swept  the  decks  from  stem  to  stern ;  and  few 
sights  could  be  more  appalling  than  the  lee  shore  from 
that  point  to  the  Corbiere  lighthouse  and  rock,  an  iron- 
bound  coast  beset  with  pitiless  pinnacles  and  reefs  buried 
under  an  unbroken  mass  of  thundering  foam.  From  the 
Corbiere  of  which  I  made  a  painting  now  owned  by  the 
Boston  Art  Club,  we  drove  before  the  tempest  in  a  thick 
mist  of  snow,  losing  our  course,  and  very  near  running 
against  the  ragged  crags  of  Guernsey.  With  difficulty 
we  made  St.  Peter's  Port,  where  the  steamer  was  forced 
to  lay  up  until  the  storm  blew  itself  out.  I  explored 
Guernsey  and  Jersey  somewhat  thoroughly,  quite  suf- 
ficiently to  enable  me  to  find  out  the  just  proportions  of 
truth  and  fiction,  in  Victor  Hugo's  powerful  but  prepos- 
terous yarn  called  The  Toilers  of  the  Sea.  The  fact 
of  it  all,  is  that  the  author  knew  practically  nothing 
of  the  sea  and  ships.  But  he  crammed  up  for  the  story 
by  talking  with  old  and  young  salts,  some  of  whom  seemed 
to  have  stuffed  his  brain  with  Munchausen-like  fancies. 
The  result  is  a  sea-story  told  by  a  landsman,  a  narrative 
full  of  marine  terms  misapplied  at  random,  and  incredible, 


256 


mechanical  feats  suitable  for  landsmen  as  fresh  as  Hugo 
himself.  One  who  has  scoured  the  seas  in  sailing  ships  and 
eaten  his  share  of  salt  grog  can  tell  at  a  glance  whether  an 
author  or  an  artist  of  marine  compositions  has  got  his 
facts  from  personal  experience  or  at  second  and  third 
hand  by  cramming.  The  inimitable  editor  of  the  yachting 
monthly  called  the  Rudder  has  vividly  described  the 
difference  between  the  landlubber  and  the  marine  expert. 

I  found  the  Channel  Islands  as  interesting  as  they 
are  famed  to  be ;  the  scenery  offered  a  fascinating  blend- 
ing of  the  savage  and  the  beautiful,  and  the  race  physi- 
cally is  one  of  the  handsomest  on  the  globe — Mrs.  Lang- 
try  came  of  that  stock.  I  made  some  charming  acquaint- 
ances and  encountered  a  variety  of  romantic  incidents. 
I  might  have  prolonged  my  stay  there  without  any  diffi- 
culty, and  much  pleasure,  but  my  engagement  with  the 
Harpers  obliged  me  to  complete  and  despatch  my  article 
on  these  Islands,  and  hasten  on  to  Brittany,  where  I 
made  my  first  landing  at  St.  Malo,  and  took  my  first  lodg- 
ing at  the  respectable  Hotel  Franklin,  whither  I  was 
directed  by  an  affable,  good  hearted  priest,  like  most  of 
his  profession  in  France. 

Brittany  proved  to  be  what  I  anticipated,  a  land  after 
ni}'  own  heart.  Much  as  I  love  sunshine,  blue  skies,  and 
riant  landscapes  clothed  with  verdure,  there  is  also  another 
quite  as  pronounced  a  side  of  my  nature,  which  shows  my 
northern  blood.  It  is  through  this,  that  I  enjoy  the  grew- 
some  fury  of  the  sea,  and  love  to  paint  the  melancholy' 
of  its  watery  wastes  ;  and  it  was  through  this  trait  of  my 
soul  that  I  appreciated  the  brumes  and  glooms,  the  savage 
coasts,  gre}^  surges,  sullen  skies,  weird  legends  and  roman- 
ces, prehistoric  and  mediaeval  antiquities,  and  picturesque 


257 


folk  of  that  Druidic  peninsula  who  seem  to  reach  out  to 
the  Arthurian  cycles  and  the  Keltic  clans  north  and  west. 
Already,  before  I  landed,  I  yearned  for  Brittany,  the 
Lyonnesse  of  old,  her  monuments  and  her  dreams.  I  was 
steeped  to  the  eyes,  likewise  in  Froissart's  immortal  story 
of  the  part  the  Bretons  played  in  the  days  of  chivalry, 
and  in  the  romance  and  tragedy  of  these  periods  to  the 
fury  of  the  Terror,  and  my  enthusiasm  had  been  kindled 
by  the  picturesque  chasse  marees  of  Morlaix,  and  the 
daring  of  those  sea  dogs,  Jean  Bart  and  Dugay-Trouin, 
coursing  the  oceans,  blessed  by  candles  and  holy  water  and 
all  the  pomp  of  the  church.  It  was  therefore  with  fierce 
impatience,  with  a  mind  .thoroughly  sympathetic,  and 
prepared  for  vivid  impressions,  that  I  set  out  to  explore 
the  old  towns,  antiquities  and  lonely  moors  of  Brittany, 
But  this  is  not  the  place  to  describe  a  journey  which 
was  unmarked  by  unusual  or  exciting  incident  or  ad- 
venture, and  what  is  outside  of  the  personal  element  can 
properly  receive  only  passing  notice  in  a  work  of  reminis- 
cences. But  I  may  say  that  to  me,  albeit  it  was  the  winter 
season  when  everything  was  especially  sad  and  sombre, 
this  journey  through  Brittany  was  surpassed  in  interest 
and  sentiment  b}'  few  of  my  excursions ;  for  above  and 
beyond  all  other  traits,  the  quality  that  pervades  every 
nook  of  Brittany  and  broods  over  it  like  an  all  pervading 
mist  of  the  sea,  is  sentiment. 

Before  leaving  this  province,  however,  I  will  briefly 
relate  two  incidents  unimportant  in  themselves,  but  which 
especially  impressed  me,  one  of  them  bringing  results 
some  years  later.  After  enjoying  Heneban,  to  which  I 
had  been  attracted  by  Froissart's  graphic  account  of 
its  defence  by  the  Countess  de  Montfort,  and  its  thrilling 


258 


rescue  by  Sir  Walter  Manny,  who  received  a  hearty  em- 
brace in  return,  a  kiss  which  vibrates  through  the  ages, 
I  made  a  dash  for  Carhaix,  in  the  heart  of  Brittany,  a 
place  rarely  if  ever  visited  by  Americans. 

The  diligence,  a  poor  affair,  like  that  described  by 
Balzac  in  the  opening  pages  of  Les  Chouans,  was  drawn 
by  one  poor  horse,  the  vehicle  was  overloaded,  and  often 
it  seemed  as  if  the  poor  animal  would  fall  dead.  The 
cruelty  of  the  Latin  races,  inherited  from  the  Romans, 
was  evident  on  this  occasion.  No  one  except  myself 
remonstrated  when  the  ruthless  driver  broke  his  whip 
over  the  horse's  ears,  and  then  ran  alongside  of  him, 
beating  him  over  the  eyes  and  prodding  the  tender  flesh 
under  the  joints  with  the  ragged  end  of  the  whipstalk 
until  the  blood  ran.  The  night  was  black,  the  gusts  were 
keen  and  mournful,  and  the  rain  drove  in  our  faces  with 
incessant  spite.  The  solitude  was  dreary  to  the  last 
degree.  It  was  the  night  for  witches  to  be  abroad. 
Once  or  twice  we  passed  a  hamlet ;  now  and  then  a  church 
tower  and  a  graveyard,  or  a  calvaire  with  huge  crucifix, 
was  dimly  visible  in  the  gloom. 

About  midway  we  changed  ovir  poor  horse,  called  Louis 
Quatorze,  for  another,  scarcely  more  fit  for  dragging  us 
through  the  mire  over  unspeakable  roads.  After  twelve 
hours  of  this  sort  of  torture,  for  it  was  hardly  anything 
better,  towards  one  in  the  morning  we  heard  the  wind 
whistling  through  a  mediaeval  belfry  that  lost  itself  in 
the  wrack  of  low  scud  driving  above  in  weird  tumult,  and 
entered  a  narrow  lane  between  high  walls.  There  our 
progress  was  blocked  by  a  drove  of  grunting,  unruly 
pigs  which  an  old  peasant  with  elfish  grey  locks  streaming 
over  his  shoulders  and  his  equally  ancient  wife  were  driving 


259 


the  Deil  knew  whither.  At  hist  the  vehicle  stopped  before 
a  squat,  squaHd  buikiing,  one  of  a  row  wrapped  in  gloom 
and  apparently  in  slumber.  But  the  loud  oaths  of  the 
driver  aroused  the  attention  of  those  within.  A  door 
creaked  open,  revealing  a  group  of  paysans,  chattering 
before  the  fire  of  a  country  tavern.  We  had  arrived  at 
Carhaix.  It  was  difficult  for  me  to  believe  that  we  had 
reached  the  shire  town  of  a  great  province  in  a  civilized 
nation  like  France.  I  fancy  that  if  one  should  diligently 
explore  that  picturesque  land  of  contrasts  and  extremes, 
he  might  find  other  towns  as  enmeshed  in  the  cobwebs  of 
ages   as   Carhaix. 

After  directing  mine  host  of  the  cabaret  to  stable  and 
feed  the  wornout  horse,  the  driver  offered  to  guide  me  to 
the  hotel.  I  gladly  accepted  the  rascal's  offer,  although 
doubtful  of  his  character  and  intentions,  especially  as  a 
grudge  had  grown  up  between  us  owing  to  certain  words 
about  "Louis  Quatorze."  Still  I  was  armed,  although  he 
was  not  aware  of  it.  This  fact  would  have  been  of  little 
ultimate  use  to  me,  however,  for  the  worst  event  that  can 
happen  to  a  foreigner,  and  especially  to  an  American,  in 
France  is  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Law,  even  though 
innocent.  We  followed  the  crooked  lanes  a  long  time,  as 
it  seemed  to  me,  meeting  not  a  soul  and  hearing  no  sound 
except  the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  sighing  of"  the  wind. 
At  every  step  my  feet  sank  into  the  mire.  What  a  night 
and  hour  that  was  for  wandering  ghosts  and  errant  spirits 
or  uncanny  crimes  !  At  length  we  came  to  an  open  space 
that  seemed  almost  the  end  of  the  town.  Its  dreariness 
was  intensified  by  a  dim  lantern  suspended  on  a  slack  rope 
stretched  across  the  square,  the  only  attempt  I  saw  to 
illuminate  the  black   streets  of  Carhaix.      At  the  farther 


260 


end  of  the  square  there  were  no  buildings,  but  merely  a 
vague  suggestion  of  a  waste  moorland  merging  into  eter- 
nal night.  Out  of  the  shadows  far  away  floated  the  yelp 
of  a  sheep  dog  or  a  wolf.  The  last  house  stood  on  the 
left  quite  aloof  and  alone.  "That  must  be  it,"  said  I  to 
myself,  "or  else  whither  is  the  fellow  leading  me."  And 
yet  it  could  not  be,  for  it  seemed  rather  to  be  a  prison  or 
frontier  fort  than  a  hotel  affording  genial  hospitality  and 
cheer.  It  stood  square,  massive,  solid,  and  mysterious, 
evidently  of  stone.  The  windows,  so  far  as  discernible, 
were  closed  with  iron  shutters,  and  not  a  gleam  of  light 
or  other  sign  of  life  was  to  be  seen  or  heard  about  it. 
"Voila,  voila!"  exclaimed  the  man  dramatically,  the  first 
words  he  had  uttered  through  the  tramp.  He  then  smote 
the  door  twice  or  thrice  hard  with  the  heavy  knob  of  his 
Breton  stick.  Judge  of  my  amazement  when  the  broad 
door  flew  open  and  I  was  welcomed  by  a  superb  young 
Avoman  of  perhaps  three  and  twenty,  with  flashing  black 
eyes,  red  cheeks,  a  wealth  of  raven  hair,  and  a  plump,  yet 
lissome  figure  outlined  against  the  glow  of  a  wood  fire 
that  crackled  on  an  ample  hearth  and  warmed  a  spacious 
hall.  Extausted,  chilled,  famished  as  I  was,  the  effect 
on  me  of  this  delectable  surprise  was  instantaneous  and 
electrifying.  When  the  lady  said,  "Vous  etes  cliez  voiis. 
Monsieur,''  I  needed  no  second  invitation  to  enter  and 
seat  myself  before  the  fire. 

Still  my  apprehension  was  not  quite  allayed.  Owing 
to  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  towards  two  a.  m.,  I  feared 
that  I  might  have  to  go  to  bed  svippcrless.  But  I  was 
soon  quieted  on  this  point  as  the  diligence  was  generally 
late,  a  late  dinner  was  in  readiness  against  its  arrival. 
On  this  occasion  the  diligence  was  even  tardier  than  usual, 


261 


but  it  was  in  my  favor  that  several  gentlemen  hunting  in 
the  neighborhood  were  still  at  the  table,  and  would  doubt- 
less welcome  an  addition  to  their  number.  After  a  hasty 
toilet,  I  entered  the  salle  a  manger  to  find  an  attractive 
apartment,  heated  by  a  blazing  wood  fire  that  bade  de- 
fiance to  the  elements,  and  lighted  by  numerous  candles 
in  silver  candlesticks,  distributed  about  a  board  loaded 
with  game  and  choice  wines.  The  gentlemen  seated  around 
it  arose  as  I  entered  and  cordially  invited  me  to  share 
their  good  cheer.  Your  genuine  hunter,  sailor  or  soldier, 
may  generally  be  depended  on  to  lay  aside  snobbery  and 
punctilio  when  at  ease,  and  to  recognize  the  comradeship 
of  one  who  can  appreciate  a  good  dinner,  a  good  glass 
of  wine,  and  a  genial  chat  that  accompanies  a  stomach 
cultivated  and  satisfied.  The  contrast  between  this  festive 
scene  and  the  dozen  hours  of  roughing  that  preceded  it 
reminded  me  of  Virgil's  significant  line,  '^Forsan  et  haec 
olim  meminisse  juvabit." 

The  other  incident  to  which  I  alluded  grew  out  of  my 
trip  to  Belle  Isle  en  Mer.  Exactly  what  led  me  to  visit 
that  islet,  four  or  five  miles  long,  with  its  little  town, 
admirable  lighthouse,  and  its  Druidic  remains,  I  do  not 
remember.  Probably  it  was  due  to  the  whim  I  have  al- 
ways entertained  for  small  islands,  and  for  seeking  out 
places  comparatively  unknown  in  preference  to  spots 
which  every  one  has  seen,  written  and  lectured  about,  or 
sketched,  painted  and  photographed.  I  made  the  passage 
from  Auray  in  a  miniature,  schooner-rigged  auxiliary 
boat.  It  was  thick  and  stormy  when  I  went  there;  it  was 
stormy  and  thick  when  I  returned.  I  saw  about  all  there 
was  to  be  seen  on  that  tight  little  isle,  met  a  brother  of 
General  Trochu  whose  estates  were  there,  and  who  com- 


262 


manded  at  the  seige  of  Paris,  hob-a-nobbed  with  the 
fisher-peasantrv,  observed  the  sardine  fisheries,  and,  as 
the  phrase  goes,  had  a  good  time,  where  there  was  not 
ver}"  much  to  see  at  that  season  but  sea.  fog,  foam,  and 
rocks.  Still,  there  was  a  certain  zest  in  the  consciousness 
that  I  was,  as  it  were,  discovering  "Belle  Isle  en  Mer," 
for  Americans  who  might  come  after  me.  So  far  as  I  could 
learn  I  was  the  first  American  tourist  to  step  foot  on  that 
island.  The  character  of  the  proprietor  of  the  neat  hotel 
where  I  lodged,  seemed  to  confirm  this  fact.  His  manner 
was  suave  like  that  of  every  French  host  when  receiving 
a  guest  to  his  hotel.  I  wish  I  could  say  the  same  of  them 
when  the  bill  is  presented  and  settled.  He  had  the  brisk 
French  alertness,  and  the  quick  intelligence  common  to 
his  countrymen,  an  intelligence  that  is  too  often  confined 
to  the  limits  of  his  environment  and  experience.  Anything 
beyond  that  is,  of  course,  beneath  the  notice  of  your  true 
chauvinist.  ]My  bonifacc  of  Belle  Isle  was  no  exception 
to  these  observations. 

"Ah,"  said  he  tentatively,  after  the  first  compliments 
were  passed,  "Monsieur,  although  he  speaks  French  fluent- 
ly, is  probably  from,  voyons!  yes,  from  Germany?" 

"No,  I  am  not  a  German,"  said  I,  amused. 

"Why,  of  course,  how  could  I  have  been  so  mistaken : 
One  sees  at  a  glance  that  Monsieur  is  from  Holland." 

"No,  I  am  not  a  Dutchman." 

"Well,  it's  odd  that  I  should  be  so  stupid  ;  I  have  it 
now;  Monsieur  is  one  Englishman  from  la  Grande  Bre- 
tagne,  and  naturally  speaks  English." 

"I  speak  English,  it  is  true,  but  yet  I  am  not  an 
Englishman." 


263 


"Monsieur  speaks  English  and  yet  is  not  an  English- 
man!    Parbleu,  what  then  are  you,  sir?" 

"I  am  an  American." 

"An  American,  An  American?  I  might  have  thought 
of  that ;  I  have  heard  of  America ;  but  then  you  speak 
English,  and  how  can  that  be?  Well,  well;  and  pray  how 
did  you  come,  sir?    Did  you  come  by  rail?" 

"No,  the  railroad  is  not  built  yet,"  I  replied  drily.  But 
he  did  not  perceive  the  implied  sarcasm.  That  he  should 
be  ignorant  of  any  facts  relating  to  America  was  a  mere 
unimportant  trifle  thin  as  air  to  your  born  chauvinist. 

As  a  type  of  this  form  of  naivete  I  recall  a  remark  of  a 
lady  whom  I  knew  well,  one  of  two  sisters  who  conducted 
a  fashionable  young  ladies'  boarding  school.  Speaking  of 
our  civil  war  she  observed  that  it  was  a  pity  the  North 
did  not  cut  a  channel  across  the  Isthmus  of  Darien  and 
let  the  South  go ! 

Anyway,  the  remark  of  my  landlord  of  Belle  Isle  put 
an  idea  in  my  head  which  resulted  years  after  in  my  story 
entitled  The  Transatlantic  Raihcay.  I  gave  consider- 
able thought  to  the  preparation  of  that  skit.  The  calcula- 
tions for  overcoming  the  mechanical,  commercial  and  en- 
gineering problems  of  such  a  stupendous  enterprise  were 
done  not  at  random  but  with  care.  Naturally  I  think  I 
have  some  turn  for  such  matters,  but  have  not  developed  it 
as  my  energies  have  been  drawn  in  other  directions ;  to 
the  principles  of  shipbuilding  I  have,  it  is  true,  given  con- 
siderable attention,  and  have  written  and  lectured  on  the 
subject.  In  point  of  style  the  article  was  one  of  the 
raciest  and  most  plausible  I  have  composed,  enlivened  as 
it  was,  by  a  vein  of  satire.  I  took  it  to  the  Forum. 
Mr.    Lorettus    C.    Metcalfe,   the   editor,   after   keeping   it 


264 


a  reasonable  time,  asked  me  to  call  and  discuss  the  article. 
He  greatly  liked  it,  but  not  being  sure  of  certain  points 
desired  to  show  it  to  Professor  Thurston,  an  expert  on 
such  questions.  This  suggestion  nettled  me.  Any  article 
or  book  which  depends  chiefly  for  success  on  its  origi- 
nality, loses  its  bloom  and  sometimes  the  first  use  of  its 
ideas,  if  hawked  around.  No  author  can  protect  himself 
too  carefully  on  this  score  in  these  days,  as  I  have  learned 
to  my  own  cost.  Besides  this  I  was  now  sure  that  the  work 
had  merit  and  despised  the  cowardice  of  an  editor  who  did 
not  dare  to  go  before  the  public  with  an  article  he  liked, 
without  the  advice  of  third  parties.  The  most  prominent 
and  general  character  of  our  editors  nowadays  is  their 
moral  cowardice,  their  dread  of  what  the  world,  Mrs. 
Grundy,  or  the  paying  subscribers  will  say.  And  yet 
the  world  recognizes  power,  admires  and  follows  it,  when 
it  succeeds.  Would  that  we  had  more  editors  like  the  late 
S.  R.  Crocker  of  Boston  and  the  present  Fra  Albcrtus  of 
Aurora.  I  withdrew  the  manuscript  of  my  Transaflan- 
fic  Railway  at  once,  from  the  Forum  (much  to  the  ir- 
ritation of  the  editor,  and  published  it  first  in  the  Nexv 
York  Star,  and  subsequently  in  my  little  collection  called 
Sea  Spray.  The  critics,  who  knew  little  of  such  matters, 
or  had  no  leisure  to  read  my  skit,  carefully  either  ignored 
or  sneered  at  it  (it  could  not  become  a  popular  article  in 
any  case).  But  it  did  appeal  to  an  audience  of  intelligent 
readers ;  careful  readers  it  found ;  those  who  read  it,  liked 
it  extremely,  and  some  did  not  hesitate  to  steal  from  it. 

After  making  the  tour  of  Britany  I  returned  to  St. 
Malo,  where  I  had  left  my  chest,  and  remained  there  until 
I  had  written  and  despatched  my  Breton  article,  which, 
with  that  of  the  Channel  Islands,  appeared  in   Harper's 


265 


within  the  prescribed  period.  I  enjoyed  the  quaint  old 
town  by  the  sea,  closely  packed  within  its  battlemented 
walls,  as  of  old,  and  reeking  with  memories  of  its  daring 
privateersmen.  When  weary  of  writing  I  strolled  about 
the  narrow  streets,  among  the  shipping  at  the  wharves, 
or  on  the  sands  in  sight  of  the  tomb  of  Chateaubriand. 
One  of  the  port  gates  was  close  to  my  window;  and  girls 
in  sabots,  shovelled  hatted  priests,  and  bronzed  sailors 
in  berrettas  and  blouses,  clattered  through  it  from  sunrise 
to  sunset.  Between  the  battlements  I  could  see  the  masts 
of  ships  and  hear  the  creaking  of  blocks  and  spars,  and 
inhale  the  pungent  smell  of  tar.  Would  that  I  were  there 
again  and  Avere  sure  to  find  things  quite  as  I  left  them ! 
It  is  just  such  bits  of  picturesqueness  and  old  time  asso- 
ciations that  win  the  heart  and  fancy  of  the  artist  and 
man  of  sentiment,  and  account  for  his  oft  time  yearning 
for  the  old  world  in  preference  to  the  new. 


266 


CHAPTER    XI. 


PARIS  AND  PORTUGAL. 


I  reached  Paris  while  the  storms  of  one  of  the  wildest 
winters  known  for  years  were  still  raging.  But  even  so 
it  seemed  natural  to  be  there  again.  Although  perhaps 
preferring  London  for  a  permanent  residence,  which  is 
only  natural  to  one  who  prizes  his  English  blood  and 
history,  yet  I  must  admit  that  I  never  had  any  difficulty 
in  adapting  myself  to  the  conditions  of  life  in  Paris,  al- 
though after  a  time  it  begins  to  pall  on  the  Anglo-Saxon, 
owing  to  the  difficulty  of  arousing  the  home  feeling  which 
is  possible  in  some  lands  but  less  practicable  in  France. 
I  say  this  with  no  ill  feeling  but  from  a  knowledge  of 
the  French  character  and  life.  I  have  been  able  to  pene- 
trate in  some  degree  beyond  the  almost  impervious  shell 
of  social  and  especially  domestic  reserve  that  hedges 
in  the  people  like  a  Avail,  behind  the  outward  suavity  for 
which  France  is  famous.  An  English  gentleman's  first 
manner  towards  a  stranger  is  distant,  cold,  not  to  say 
brusque.  But  if  he  takes  a  liking  to  him  and  finds  him 
worthy  of  confidence,  he  takes  him  to  his  heart,  in- 
vites him  to  his  home  and  fireside  with  hearty  good  will. 
The  Frenchman,  on  the  other  hand,  is  open,  civil,  obliging, 

267 


entertaining  from  the  start,  but  is  careful  not  to  extend 
domestic  courtesies  to  the  stranger  except  in  rare  and 
exceptional  circumstances.  When  therefore  I  hear  Ameri- 
cans talking  of  being  entertained  at  French  homes  I  am 
inclined  to  take  their  statement  cum  grano  soli  unless  they 
happen  to  be  Roman  Catholics.  That  does  indeed  make 
a  difference.  With  these  French  people,  especially  of  the 
upper  bourgeoisie  and  aristocracy,  who  still  cling  devoutly 
to  the  Papacy,  the  sharing  of  a  common  religion  operates 
like  an  open  sesame  or  a  masonic  sign.  Whatever  their 
civil  allegiance  or  government,  all  Romanists  tacitly  or 
openly  claim  a  higher  allegiance  to  one  common  Lord,  and 
to  one  exalted,  secular  and  religious  sovereign,  the  one 
supreme  Pope.  Unity  of  faith  goes  far  in  this  case  to 
obliterate  racial  and  national  differences,  at  this  period 
more  than  ever  before,  when  the  actual  secular  sovereign- 
ty of  the  Pope  is  losing  its  grasp  over  minds  and  govern- 
ments. There  is  also  another  reason  for  this  domestic 
reserve  of  the  French,  I  fancy.  All  the  Latin  races  have 
retained  to  some  degree  the  Oriental  notions  about  domestic 
life  and  the  seclusion  of  women  which  the  Romans  bor- 
rowed from  the  Greeks  and  Asiatics.  Li  proportion  as 
the  French  have  gradually  departed  from  the  details  of 
this  system  they  still  instinctively  cling  to  the  original 
traditions  more  or  less,  by  excluding  Anglo-Saxons  from 
their  home  intimacy.  French  family  life  is  really  that 
of  the  clan  or  of  the  sept  of  the  Asiatic  nomads,  patri- 
archism  pure  and  simple,  and  the  civil  laws  and  statutes 
are  founded  on  this  basis.  In  France  the  family  is  the 
unit;  in  England  and  America,  the  individual  is  the  unit 
considered  in  the  conventions  and  laws  which  regulate 
society.      Herein   we   find   a    fundamental   reason    for   the 


268 


lack  of  affinity  between  the  Frenchman  and  the  Anglo- 
Saxon,  which  only  generations  of  intermingling  can  efface. 
The  marriage  de  convenance,  a  relic  of  Oriental  patriar- 
chal and  clan  society,  which  treats  the  interests  of  the  clan 
as  superior  to  those  of  the  individual,  and  hence  ignores 
the  importance  of  love  or  mutual  affinity  in  the  marriage 
relations,  is  undoubtedly  the  cause  of  existing  social  con- 
ditions and  opinions  in  France.  They  who  are  united 
purely  to  perpetuate  the  clan  and  the  clan  fortune,  natur- 
ally seek  expression  of  the  sexual  affections  and  emotions 
elsewhere;  and  hence  also  a  tendency  to  regard  matri- 
monial infidelity  with  lenience,  so  long  as  no  open  scandal 
occurs  and  appearances  are  preserved.  Such  a  condition 
of  things  would  be  still  more  natural  with  a  people  whose 
passions  are  exceptionally  strong.  Some  people  are  in- 
clined to  attribute  such  laxity  among  Latin  races  to  the 
religious  cult.  But  this  seems  to  me  decidedly  erroneous. 
The  Irish,  whose  Catholicism  is  proverbially  staunch,  are 
among  the  most  chaste  of  peoples.  The  Greeks  who  are 
of  the  same  religion  with  the  Russians,  are  more  chaste. 
Some  Protestant  nations  are  also  more  licentious  than 
others.  This  is  largely  a  question  of  race,  of  blood  which, 
among  the  French,  is  especially  marked  for  the  reasons 
stated  above. 

Abolish  the  marriage  de  convenance  in  France  and  tlie 
sex  question  would  regulate  itself  in  that  country.  Until 
that  occurs  some  French  wives  there  will  be  who  will  imi- 
tate their  husbands,  and  make  themselves  agreeable  to  the 
husbands  of  other  wives.  To  make  oneself  agreeable,  to 
fascinate,  is  the  prerogative  par  excellence  of  women.  Per- 
haps the  greatest  crime  of  which  she  can  be  accused  is 
to  be  insipid,  it  is  worse  than  to  be  naughty,  so  far  as 


269 


her  mission  in  society  is  concerned.  Much  may  be  for- 
given to  her  who  has  the  priceless  power  to  charm.  Twice 
happy  are  they  who  dwell  among  social  conditions  which 
permit  them  to  be  at  once  agreeable  and  virtuous.  That 
society  can  alone  approach  perfection  which  frowns  alike 
on  unchastity  and  prudishness,  both  of  which  proceed 
alike  from  defective  social  customs  producing  an  un- 
healthy public  opinion. 

But  the  prime  defect  of  the  French  character,  so  glar- 
ing and  universal  as  almost  to  blind  one  to  the  many 
brilliant  and  noble  qualities  of  that  people  is  the  greed 
for  money  for  itself,  an  avarice  exceeding  that  of  the 
Greeks,  which  is  saying  much.  It  penetrates  all  classes. 
We  Americans  are  accused  of  being  given  over  as  a  nation 
to  the  quest  of  riches.  Doubtless  there  is  much  truth  in 
this ;  but  a  very  large  proportion  of  our  money-seekers 
are  such,  either  for  ostentation,  for  power,  or  because 
it  is  the  most  ready  avenue  open,  for  the  exercise  of  our 
vast  energy  and  organizing  genius ;  rather  than  for  the 
mere  love  of  money.  If  possible,  many  of  the  women  of 
France  are  more  grasping  as  to  money  than  the  men, 
and  a  most  painful  trait  of  their  nature  it  is,  to  observe. 
But  for  this  the  fair  sex  of  that  beautiful  land  would 
probably  be  the  superiors  in  character  to  the  men.,  as  they 
are  in  most  other  Latin  countries  at  the  present  day. 
The  novels  of  Balzac  reek  with  descriptions  of  sordidness 
and  its  attendant  results,  as  Tolstoi's  tales  are  foul  with 
the  sensuality  of  the  Russians.  Look  at  Balzac's  My 
Cousin  Pons. 

I  passed  nearly  two  months  at  Paris  on  this  visit,  col- 
lecting material  for  my  article  on  Modern  French  Art. 
My  previous  visits  to  that  city  had  given  me  some  knowl- 


270 


edge  of  the  European  and  also  French  art  so  far  as 
represented  in  the  public  galleries  and  historic  monu- 
ments. But  what  I  now  sought  was  the  practice  and 
principles  of  the  later  schools.  Two  months  is  a  short 
time  for  such  a  vast  study.  But  I  was  already  somewhat 
grounded  on  the  subject,  and  by  going  to  work  system- 
atically and  with  unceasing  effort,  I  was  able,  at  least, 
to  write  up  some  of  the  essential  points  for  a  public  to 
whom  the  facts  and  theories  presented  would  be  essen- 
tially new.  In  preparing  such  papers  as  well  as  simple 
articles  of  travel,  I  made  it  a  point,  so  far  as  possible, 
to  gather  my  information  at  first  hand.  Doubtless  such 
close  adherence  to  facts  sometimes  impaired  the  literary 
interest  of  my  articles  for  those  who  prefer  style,  theories 
and  glowing  periods,  to  mere  statements  and  statistics. 
But  the  editors  did  not  wish  theories  which  might  arouse 
controversy,  nor  was  there  space  for  them  in  articles 
whose  very  words  were  numbered.  The  old  fashion  has 
passed  away;  half  the  space  of  an  article  had  to  be  re- 
served for  illustrations ;  and  the  scope  allowed  to  a  writer 
when  Macaulay  could  publish  essays  the  length  of  a'  book 
in  the  Reviews  has  passed  away.  Condense,  condense, 
condense,  forever  condense,  was  now  the  mot  d'  ordre 
issued  from  every  editorial  office  throughout  the  land. 

Among  the  artists  whom  I  met  that  winter  in  Paris, 
two  made  especial  impression  on  me.  The  first  was  Dau- 
bigne,  the  great  landscape  painter.  He  was  a  small  man, 
about  five  feet  five,  spare,  but  well  made,  and  in  his  studio 
wore  a  black  velvet  cap,  close  cropped  beard  and  sack 
coat.  His  manner  was  self  assured  but  modest,  quiet,  but 
affable.  What  does  not  always  happen  between  the  artist 
and  his  works  (although  perhaps  more  than  in  other  voca- 

271 
18 


tions)  he  seemed  in  looks  and  manner  exactly  the  man 
one  would  expect  to  paint  the  grey,  subdued,  contempla- 
tive canvasses  that  gave  him  fame.  There  was  nothing 
bizarre,  ostentatious,  haughty  or  sensational  about  the 
artist  or  his  plain  but  ample  studio.  The  latter  abounded 
in  a  background  of  mysterious  twilight,  — it  was  simply 
furnished  and  was  free  from  the  huddle  of  old  hangings 
and  bric-a-brac  which  overload  the  walls  and  corners  of 
so  many  studios,  giving  a  shoppy  impression  and  detract- 
ing rather  than  aiding  the  effect  of  the  paintings  on  the 
easel. 

The  other  artist  to  whom  I  alluded  was  Moses  Wight 
of  Boston,  who  made  his  home  in  Paris.  I  met  him  as  a 
total  stranger,  without  even  a  letter  of  introduction,  and 
the  kind  courtesy  he  showed  me  throughout  my  stay 
forms  one  of  the  pleasantest  memories  of  my  years  of 
travel.  He  was  then  in  middle  life,  wearing  an  air  of 
gravity  that  was  belied,  however,  by  the  sly  humor  that 
pervaded  his  conversation.  He  was  of  medium  size,  and 
the  cast  of  his  features  fringed  by  an  imperial,  reminded 
me  of  the  portraits  of  iNIontaigne,  whom,  I  think,  he 
may  have  resembled  in  temperament  as  well.  There  must 
have  been  a  strain  of  Gallic  blood  in  Wight's  composition, 
modified  and  sweetened  by  English  ancestry,  he  so  readily 
adapted  himself  to  the  French  and  their  views  of  life. 
Strange  to  say,  however,  notwithstanding  that  he  had  lived 
so  long  in  France,  and  a  bachelor  at  that,  he  found  diffi- 
culty in  acquiring  the  language. 

Wight  was  a  careful,  painstaking  artist,  a  master  of 
the  technique  of  the  French  contemporary  school,  and  his 
choice  cabinet  compositions  brought  good  prices.  His 
subjects  were  generally  elegant  interiors,  as  accessory  to 


272 


handsome  women  dressed,  somewhat  in  the  style  of  Tojet- 
ti's  pictures.  But  there  was  nothing  salacious  or  im- 
modest about  them.  Even  his  occasional  nudes  were  far 
from  suggestive.  His  Eve  at  the  Fountain  might  have 
been  looked  at  by  a  Sunday  School  without  harm,  while 
in  the  adjoining  alcove  hung  the  painting  of  Es^neralda 
and  Haidee,  by  Van  Lerius,  in  which  the  figure  and  ex- 
pression of  the  girl  was  such  as  to  melt  an  iceberg. 

But  the  side  of  Wight's  nature  that  was  least  known 
to  the  world  was  his  conversational  talent,  warmed  by 
a  genial  heart.  He  was  one  of  the  most  agreeable  talkers 
I  have  ever  heard.  His  remarks  partook  of  the  sprightli- 
ness  of  woman's  gossip,  pleasantly  but  not  bitterly  acid, 
combined  with  the  acuteness  of  one  who  had  experienced 
life  and  studied  human  nature  below  the  surface.  A  light 
vein  of  cynicism,  a  delicious  gleam  of  raillery,  sparkled 
through  his  conversation,  but  free  from  malice  or  jealousy. 
Of  all  the  good  male  talkers  I  have  met,  few  have  dis- 
played less  resentment  or  jealousy,  innuendo  or  backbiting 
than  Moses  Wight  and  John  G.  Saxe.  One  could  listen 
to  them  without  being  ashamed  afterwards  to  meet  the 
people  of  whom  they  may  have  spoken.  Whether  in  his 
studio  or  Avith  a  group  of  artists  at  the  theatre,  dining 
in  a  crack  restaurant  of  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  or 
strolling  among  the  galleries,  Wight  was  always  equally 
entertaining  and  informing.  He  was  especially  interesting 
when  chatting  of  the  subjects  which  absorb  so  much  of  the 
attention  of  the  gay  Parisians,  the  studios,  the  artists 
and  the  art  sales,  the  theatres  and  places  of  amusement, 
and  the  coryphees  of  the  haute  demi  monde,  who  with  their 
fashionable,  aristocratic  followers,  occupy  so  prominent  a 
position  at  the  French  capital.    But  when  on  these  topics 


273 


Wight's  talk  was  so  simple  and  straightforward  and  en- 
livened by  such  a  naive  gaiety  that  one  would  be  as  little 
corrupted  by  it,  as  by  the  comical  amours  of  the  wrens  on 
the  fence  under  one's  window.  The  vast  number  of 
licensed  dogs  of  all  sizes,  degrees  and  pedigrees  seen  in 
the  streets  of  Paris  afforded  Wight  a  perpetual  source  of 
philosophic  mirth.  Whenever  we  ran  across  a  group  of 
dogs  or  saw  a  trim  grisette  with  a  poodle  following  close 
in  her  wake,  he  would  chuckle  sotto  voce,  "a  great  people 
for  dogs !  a  great  people  for  dogs !"  Take  him  all  in  all, 
he  was  a  rarely  good  fellow, 

Paris  is  really  the  Art  capital  of  Europe,  although 
Munich  and  Berlin  are  pressing  it  hard.  In  London,  vast 
as  is  the  art  field,  other  interests  and  occupations,  in  a 
city  so  enormous  make  art  but  one  of  many  forms  of  ex- 
pressions, while  the  Gallic  race  no  longer  presents  us  men 
of  so  commanding  strength  as  clustered  around  Henry 
IV  or  Louis  XIV.  While  it  no  longer  presents  us  with 
a  Camille,  a  Moliere,  a  Voltaire,  a  Madame  Roland,  a 
Turenne  or  a  Soult,  a  Bossuet  or  a  Mirabeau,  France 
continues  to  offer  us  an  art  that  shows  little  decline  in 
vitality.  Indeed !  the  artistic  turn  of  the  French  people 
impresses  one  more  and  more  each  time  he  returns  to  the 
French  capital. 

It  is  generally  conceded  that  the  2nd  empire  degraded 
the  character  of  the  French  nation,  and  that  the  terrible 
overthrow  France  suffered  at  the  hands  of  Germany,  was 
owing  largely  to  this  cause.  Will  "the  Republic"  save 
the  people  of  France  from  the  moral  decline  which  is  likely 
in  time  to  sap  the  heart  of  the  nation?  France  must  either 
rise  in  power  or  go  down,  for  German  militarism  is  ever 
on  the  watch,  and  is  but  biding  its  time  to  spring!    Then 


274 


shall  come  a  war,  long  and  terrible  which  shall  eventually 
change  the  map  of  Europe. 

The  vastness  and  magnificence  of  Paris  is  like  a  great 
maelstrom,  to  draw  thither  artistic  minds  from  all  parts 
of  the  world.  Its  art  exercises  a  powerful  influence  over 
the  public  taste.  Streets  are  laid  out  with  consummate 
perspective  effect.  The  eye  for  color  and  effect  is  ap- 
parent. Even  the  shop  windows,  where  various  shades  of 
drapery  and  other  stuffs  are  often  arranged  on  a  harmony 
so  exquisite  as  to  move  one  like  a  concord  of  sweet  sounds. 

Beauty  for  its  own  sake,  and  that  sensuous  love  of  it, 
which  inspired  the  Athenian  of  old,  is  with  the  Parisian 
of  today  a  more  powerful  motor  than  either  moral  or 
political  principal.  You  may  say  Paris  is  not  France — 
no ;  but  it  is  the  consummate  flower  of  its  intellectuality. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  government  is  behind 
all  its  chief  institutions.  The  French  people  must  have 
felt  for  a  long  time  that  art  talent  was  a  peculiar  gift  of 
their  race,  for  they  have  fostered  the  growth  of  art  by 
organization,  far-seeing  in  their  bearing.  Whether 
government  patronage  of  art  education  is  the  best  thing 
for  a  true  growth  of  art  is  a  question  about  which  there 
is  a  difference  of  opinion,  but  at  any  rate  we  find  in 
France  a  "Minister  of  Fine  Arts,"  who  superintends  the 
whole  question  of  art  in  the  country,  and  large  allowances 
are  given  by  the  legislature.  The  sales  of  paintings  alone 
have  averaged  from  40  to  50,000,000  of  francs  per  an- 
num, which  by  reason  of  difference  in  values,  would  be 
equal  to  twice  that  sum  in  the  United  States.  The  French 
opinion  of  the  value  of  their  annual  exhibitions  in  the 
Salon,  is  that  one  may  sell  pictures,  or  possibly  acquire 
reputation  without  it,  but  never  fame !    I  found  the  French 


275 


art  students  a  curious  medley  of  seemingly  dicordant 
elements,  full  of  intensive  art  ability  and  wonderful  en- 
thusiasm, but  often  coarse,  even  to  the  point  sometimes 
of  being  brutal  and  disgusting,  and  yet  these  untamed 
and  untameable  art  students,  astonish  one  by  thtir  extra- 
ordinary perception  of  art  and  color.  The  great  Corot 
had  been  dead  but  a  short  time  when  I  was  in  Paris  and  I 
heard  many  things  about  him  and  his  life.  He  inherited 
property  from  his  father,  but  made  for  himself  an  in- 
come averaging  200,000  francs  per  annum  from  his  art. 
As  he  never  married,  much  of  this  was  given  away  to  poor 
artists  or  their  families.  It  is  said  one  of  his  earlier 
paintings  was  badly  hung,  and  no  one  looked  at  it.  He 
went  himself  and  stood  before  it,  thinking  "Men  are  like 
flies,  if  one  alights  on  a  dish,  others  will  follow."  Soon  a 
number  of  people  gathered  about  it,  one  lady  said  "Oh, 
it  is  horrid !  let  us  go."  This  picture  sold  for  700  francs, 
and  afterward  brought  12,000  at  auction. 

Next  to  the  art  interest  I  found  the  restaurant  sys- 
tem of  Paris  the  most  important  outgrowth  of  the  peculiar 
conditions  of  society  in  the  city.  Thrice  daily,  Paris 
empties  itself  into  the  streets  and  inundates  the  cafees 
creviirics  and  restaurants.  Families  by  tens  of  thou- 
sands daily  take  their  meals  abroad  and  in  public.  To 
me  it  was  an  astonishing  spectacle  indicating  absence  of 
home  attractions  and  looseness  of  the  family  tie.  One 
who  sees  this,  can  better  understand  why  the  French  battle- 
cry  is  not  "fight  for  your  hearthstones  and  your  homes," 
but  "fight  for  glory !"  Doubtless  the  marriage  customs 
of  the  country  have  much  to  do  with  this,  as  love  is 
ignored  as  a  factor  to  a  prosperous  marriage-tie. 

Women  are  everywhere  employed  in  business,  and  all 
vocations   except   soldiering   and   sailoring,   which   proves 

276 


woman  is  capable  of  all  this,  but  it  also  proves  that  the 
adoption  of  masculine  pursuits  for  women,  tends  to 
coarsen  thought,  language  and  action,  and  to  depreciate 
domestic  ties,  and  to  destroy  the  attractions  of  "home." 

Having  written  and  mailed  my  article  on  French  Art 
for  the  Atlantic  Montlily,  I  took  passage  from  Havre  in 
a  small  French  steamer  bound  to  Portugal,  this  time  pre- 
ferring a  trip  by  water.  She  was  a  freighter  with  accom- 
modations for  only  four  passengers.  On  this  trip  there 
was  one  other  passenger  beside  myself.  We  two  with  the 
captain  formed  a  companionship  that  was  far  from 
tedious.  We  were  all  fond  of  eating  and  talking,  and  each 
was  able  to  contribute  his  share  of  information  and  en- 
tertainment. The  cuisine  being  savory  and  satisfactory, 
as  it  is  invariably  on  French  ships,  we  sat  at  the  table 
for  hours  relating  our  experiences  and  arranging  the 
affairs  of  the  universe.  Nor  were  the  lighter  condiments 
of  table  talk  wanting.  Captain  Marchand  had  command- 
ed a  ship-of-war  in  the  recent  Franco-German  conflict, 
and  was  altogether  an  open-hearted,  intelligent  seaman 
in  middle  life.  My  fellow  passenger,  who  made  a  specialty 
of  dressing  the  salad  daily  for  the  roast,  was  a  well  bal- 
anced man  of  fine  education  and  considerable  knowledge 
of  affairs,  somewhat  positive  in  his  opinions,  and,  by  pro- 
fession, a  civil  engineer,  if  I  rightly  remember,  holding  a 
government  position.  I  learned  some  facts  from  him 
regarding  the  idioms  of  the  French  language  that  were 
new  to  me.  But  he  made  no  statement  that  more  impress- 
ed me  than  what  he  had  told  me  about  Rosa  Bonheur,  con- 
firming rumors  already  suggested  to  me. 

We  were  talking  of  Bernhardt,  George  Sand,  Rachel, 
and  other  noted  French  women  of  the  time — a  Frenchman 


277 


would  hardly  be  expected  to  be  aware  of  any  other  noted 
women  in  other  lands — I  alluded  to  Rosa  Bonheur. 

"I  know  her  well,"  said  my  compagnon  de  voyage. 

"She's  a  great  painter,"  I  replied. 

"Yes,  if — "  he  answered  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 
"Why,  do  you  think  there's  some  truth  in  the  rumor 
floating  about  the  studios,  as  to  her  sex?" 

"It's  true,  every  word  of  it,  and  that  is  the  reason  why 
the  women  have  given  so  much  less  attention  to  her  than  to 
other  brilliant  artists  and  authors  of  her  own  sex.  You 
notice  that  they  practically  ignore  her,  whom,  if  in  all 
respects  a  woman,  would  be  the  greatest  artist  the  sex 
could  boast  of.  How  do  I  feel  so  sure  of  my  facts .?  you 
ask.  I  have  known  about  it  since  I  was  a  boy.  Her 
family  and  my  family  lived  almost  next  door  to  each  other, 
and  of  course  were  well  acquainted.  It  was  a  matter 
of  common  talk  with  us  that  there  was  serious  question 
whether  Rosa  should  have  that  or  a  masculine  name, 
whether  she  should  be  brought  up  as  a  man  or  woman. 
Finally  the  latter  was  decided  on  because  likely  to  be  the 
least  embarrassing  when  she  should  grow  up ;  but  this 
fact  explains  the  masculinity  of  her  tastes,  and  the  celi- 
bate character  of  her  life.  No,  I  assure  you  that  there 
is  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  painter  of  the  'Horse 
Fair'  has  the  attributes  of  both  sexes  about  equally  de- 
veloped." 

In  due  time  we  arrived  off  Oporto,  where  we  were  to 
touch  and  discharge  some  cargo.  We  found  that  the  bar 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Tagus,  which  is  also  the  entrance 
to  the  port,  was  still  so  violent  after  the  rise  of  the  river 
that  several  days  must  elapse  before  we  could  enter. 
Quite   a   fleet   of   sailing   ships   had   already   waited   some 


278 


time  for  entrance,  which  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  in 
Europe.  There  is  a  tremendous  surf  on  the  bar  with 
westerly  w4nds,  which  is  awful  when  it  encounters  the 
spring  freshets  or  sudden  rain  floods  from  the  mountains. 
At  such  times  it  is  dangerous  even  for  vessels  lying  at 
the  wharves.  How  Oporto  ever  became  a  seaport  under 
such  circumstances  is  only  explainable  by  the  value  of  its 
export  of  wine  which  grows  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood, a  vintage  whose  merit  and  value  seem  to  warrant 
the  risk  of  getting  it  to  market.  No  ships,  either  sail 
or  steam,  ever  attempt  to  enter  Oporto  except  when  the 
signal  is  given  at  the  Point  of  Foz  that  the  bar  is  passable, 
and  the  channel  is  indicated  by  men  following  along  the 
shore  waving  red  flags.  We  managed  to  tide  over  the 
four  days  of  waiting  in  the  open  under  slow  steam  fairly 
well,  in  the  cabin  at  least,  relieving  the  slow  flight  of 
hours  by  eating  and  drinking  and  conversation. 

During  the  interval  I  had  another  opportunity  to 
observe  once  more  how  diff'erently  matters  proceed  on 
a  French  vessel  than  upon  an  English  or  American  ship. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  courage.  The  French  are  brave 
enough.  None  braver.  It  is  a  matter  of  temperament. 
Nor  is  it  exactly  because  of  lack  of  knowledge  of  the  sea, 
but  rather  of  natural  fitness  for  it,  in  which,  excepting 
perhaps  the  Portuguese,  the  Latin  races  difi'er  strongly 
from  the  peoples  of  the  North. 

As  it  is  not  my  aim  to  give  descriptions  here  of  countries 
and  places  except  briefly  and  rarely,  I  can  only  barely 
allude  to  my  saunterings  over  Portugal,  and  must  keep 
a  firm  hand  on  the  reins  of  my  memory  and  the  rush  of 
my  kindling  enthusiasms.  I  had  no  stirring  adventures, 
no  hair-breadth  escapes,  in  that  beautiful,  romantic  land. 


279 


The  enjoyment  it  gave  me,  although  replete  with  novel 
incidents,  was  chiefly  quiet,  restful,  elevating.  But  it 
appealed  alike  to  my  artistic  and  poetic  sense ;  the  scenery 
I  found  enchanting,  and  the  kindness,  hospitality  and 
gracious  courtesy  I  met  on  every  hand  tended  to  increase 
my  love  for  the  Portuguese  people  and  to  give  them  a  place 
in  my  heart  forever.  I  traversed  the  country  in  every 
direction  by  rail,  diligence,  private  conveyance,  or  the 
saddle,  making  my  headquarters  at  Lisbon.  It  is  perti- 
nent to  state  that  my  mind  had  already  been  prepared  to 
appreciate  that  country  before  even  I  stepped  foot  in 
Portugal,  not  only  by  what  I  have  seen  of  the  Portuguese 
in  the  Azores  and  Madeira,  and  on  my  cruises  with  Por- 
tuguese seamen ;  but  also  by  the  reading  of  Camoens,  Oso- 
rio,  Barios,  and  other  Portuguese  classics,  at  the  time  I  was 
in  the  State  Library  at  Albany,  where  I  taught  myself 
to  read  the  language  with  some  fluency.  The  enthusiasm 
engendered  thereby  had  resulted,  among  other  papers,  in 
a  fervid  article  on  the  Portuguese  in  Iiulia,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  New  Englander. 

My  interest  in  Portugal  had  a  curious  sequel  more  than 
twenty  years  after  my  visit  to  that  country.  Self  Cul- 
ture, a  monthly  magazine,  published  an  article  in  1898 
on  the  smaller  states  of  Europe.  It  approved  of  a  con- 
tinuance of  their  independence  excepting  in  the  case  of 
Portugal,  which  it  dismissed  with  a  surly  paragraph  to 
the  efi'ect  that  that  country  had  no  sufficient  reason  for 
separate  existence,  and  should  straightw^ay  be  absorbed 
into  Spain.  This  assertion  was  so  manifestly  unjust,  so 
plainly  founded  on  absolute  ignorance  of  the  facts,  that 
I  sat  down  immediately  and  dashed  off  a  reply  giving  an 
animated   resume   of  the  character   and   achievements    of 


280 


Portugal,  past  and  present.  The  editor  of  Self  Culture 
had  the  rare  magnanimity  to  publish  my  article  verbatim. 
It  came  to  the  notice  of  a  Portuguese  resident.  His  heart 
was  fired  by  the  perusal  of  a  paper  based  on  knowledge 
and  justice,  rarely  evidenced  by  recent  writers  on  that 
country.  By  this  means  the  editor  of  the  Portuguese 
organ  in  America  was  led  to  publish  a  most  appreciative 
critique  recommending  my  article  to  all  his  countrymen 
at  home  and  abroad.  Some  weeks  later  the  "Portuguese 
Protective  Association  of  San  Francisco"  passed  a  series 
of  dignified  resolutions  warmly  acknowledging  my  efforts, 
and  commending  me  to  the  kind  attention  of  all  Portuguese 
patriots.  An  engrossed  copy  with  the  gold  seal  of  the 
Association  was  forwarded  to  me.  It  is  needless  to  add 
that  to  one  who  loved  Portugal  as  I  do  that  these  proceed- 
ings were  exceedingly  gratifying. 

While  at  Lisbon  I  met  my  excellent  friends,  Jasper 
Smith,  Esq.,  U.  S.  Consul  at  Madeira,  and  his  amiable 
wife,  whose  friendly  courtesies  to  me  at  INIadeira  formed 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  features  of  my  visits  to  that 
island. 

We  took  an  enjoyable  little  trip  to  Cintra  and  Mafra. 
At  the  former  place  we  met  Lord  John  Hay,  vice  ad- 
miral of  the  British  Channel  Fleet,  who  was  staying  at 
the  same  hotel  with  ourselves,  the  fleet  being  then  at 
Lisbon.  Having  a  common  languag  to  bring  on  a  con- 
versing acquaintance,  we  sat  for  hours  at  the  table  after 
it  Avas  cleared  and  the  other  guests  had  left;  over  our 
wine  and  cigars  we  chatted  until  late,  of  matters  Anglo- 
American.  The  recurrence  of  the  interview  on  the  fol- 
lowing evening  gave  his  lordship  such  pleasure  that  he 
invited   us    through   his    secretary   to    dine    on   board    his 


281 


flagship  on  our  return  to  Lisbon.  We  accepted  the  invita- 
tion in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  given,  and  passed  a  de- 
lightful evening  on  the  magnificent  ship  Northumberland. 
She  was  one  of  the  several  full-rigged,  five  masted,  iron- 
clad war  ships  constructed  during  the  experimental  or 
transitional  period  resulting  in  the  modern  battleships, 
and  good  only,  as  his  lordship  facetiously  observed,  to  serve 
as  breakwaters  behind  which  the  smaller  vessels  could  run 
for  shelter  in  battle  or  storm.  The  other  captains  of  the 
fleet  were  present,  and  it  was  altogether  quite  a  stately 
function.     After  dinner  we  had  cards  in  the  main  cabin. 

The  admiral  of  the  Channel  Fleet  at  that  time  was  Lord 
Seymour,  afterwards  Lord  Alcester.  When  Mr.  Moran, 
our  then  minister  at  the  Court  of  Portugal,  learned  in  the 
course  of  conversation,  that  I  was  directly  descended  from 
the  Seymours  of  Hartford,  being  well  up  in  that  gene- 
ology,  he  at  once  offered  to  accompany  me  on  board  Lord 
Seymour's  flagship  and  introduce  me  to  him,  as  kinsman 
by  blood.  But  the  fleet  was  unexpectedly  ordered  away, 
and  I  was  thus  deprived  of  meeting  the  head  of  the 
Seymour  clan. 

The  Hotel  Central,  where  I  made"my  headquarters,  was 
by  far  the  best  place  in  Lisbon  to  meet  casually  the 
prominent  men  passing  through  the  city  or  dropping  in 
to  dine  as  at  a  club.  In  this  way  I  met  Admiral  Sartorius, 
at  one  time  a  considerable  figure  in  the  naval  afl'airs  of 
Portugal,  in  which  he  had  enlisted  his  services,  an  English 
marine  knight  of  fortune.  When  I  was  at  Lisbon  he  was 
still  handsome  and  of  distinguished  port,  although  well 
past  eighty.  He  was  residing  at  the  hotel  under  very 
extraordinary  circumstances.  When  his  days  of  active 
service  were  over  the  admiral  decided  to  pass  the  remainder 


282 


of  his  life  in  Portugal,  a  charming  country  where  he  was 
a  favorite  and  had  formed  enduring  friendships.  Whether 
he  was  a  bachelor  or  a  widower  I  forget,  but  he  had  no 
near  relations  having  any  special  claim  to  his  estate 
after  his  death.  Judging  from  the  average  of  human 
life  and  perhaps  from  his  own  constitution,  he  assumed 
that  he  would  probably  not  live  beyond  eighty.  He 
therefore  divided  his  property  into  certain  equal  parts 
which,  with  the  interest,  would  carry  him  comfortably 
until  eighty.  He  was  taking  some  risk,  but  a  small  one 
as  he  thought,  and  in  the  meantime  he  would  enjoy  life 
affluently  in  the  society  of  his  friends.  Strange  to  say 
the  allotted  period  arrived  and  the  venerable  admiral 
found  himself  still  in  excellent  health,  without  the  slight- 
est hint  of  the  approach  of  death ;  but  he  had  also  reached 
the  end  of  his  funds  !  Here  was  a  pleasant  predicament 
indeed !  The  door  of  the  poor-house  seemed  open  be- 
fore him.  If  he  had  been  a  Frenchman  or  a  German 
he  might  have  settled  the  matter  with  a  pan  of  char- 
coal or  a  pistol.  But  he  was  a  man  of  different  metal. 
While  considering  how  to  solve  the  dilemma,  the  many 
friends  who  had  been  recipients  of  his  benevolence  and 
hospitality  formed  a  plan  for  the  relief  of  the  gallant 
old  gentleman  which  was  creditable  to  all  concerned.  They 
clubbed  together  and  agreed  that  they  would  be  respon- 
sible for  maintaining  him  in  all  the  comfort  to  which  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  the  end  of  his  days.  When  I 
met  him  he  had  already  lived  a  number  of  years  at  the 
Hotel  Central  under  this  arrangement,  and  still  appeared 
hale  and  heart}"  enough  to  last  for  an  indefinite  period. 
Mr.  Moran,  the  newly  appointed  U.  S.  INIinister  to  the 
Court  of  Portugal,  was  a  gentleman  in  every  sense  of  the 


283 


term,  a  man  of  the  utmost  tact,  courtesy  and  refinement, 
whose  heart  had  not  been  hardened  by  contact  with  the 
ways  of  the  world,  while,  as  secretary  for  years  of  the 
legation  at  the  Court  of  St.  James  and  at  one  time  charge, 
he  was  well  up  in  all  the  rules  and  usages  of  diplomatic 
etiquette  and  procedure. 

I  met  another  gentleman  at  Lisbon  who  had  been  a 
creditable  member  of  our  diplomatic  service  abroad.  I 
refer  to  Mr.  Horatio  J.  Perry ;  after  graduating  at 
Harvard  and  serving  as  aid  to  General  Shields  in  the 
Mexican  War,  he  was  appointed  secretary  of  legation  at 
Madrid.  He  remained  at  that  post  for  a  number  of  years, 
and  the  advantages  of  allowing  a  good  man  to  gain  ex- 
perience by  continuous  service  instead  of  constantly  rotat- 
ing them  out  of  office,  was  clearly  shown  in  his  case.  As 
charge  d'  affaires  he  was  able  to  avert  the  hostilities 
which  threatened  out  of  the  affair  of  the  "Warrior." 
Later,  in  1861,  Mr.  Perry  was  instrumental  in  inducing 
Spain  to  issue  a  proclamation  of  neutrality  between  the 
North  and  the  South  during  the  Rebellion ;  of  which 
course,  one  result  was,  that  the  privateer  Sumpter  was 
ordered  out  of  Cadiz.  At  the  time  I  met  Mr.  Perry,  he 
was  residing  at  Lisbon. 

A  few  days  before  I  left  Portugal  a  curious  incident 
occurred  at  the  Hotel  Central.  A  French  Count  was 
staying  at  the  hotel.  His  companion,  a  lady  who 
might  have  passed  as  his  wife  so  far  as  appearances  were 
concerned,  was  not.  This  did  not  seem  to  make  any  dif- 
ference, however.  She  was  admitted  to  the  table  d'  hote 
with  the  Count;  no  one  objected,  and  no  one  apparently 
paid  any  attention  to  the  matter.  In  person  she  was  of 
a    superb    type    of   beauty,    reminding    one    of    the    Em- 


284 


press  Eugene.  Her  voice  was  low  and  agreeable,  and  her 
manners  altogether  comme  il  faut;  neither  so  reserved  as 
to  suggest  prudery  nor  so  bold  as  to  invite  unwelcome 
attention.  But  one  day  sometliing  happened  which  showed 
her  perfect  self-command.  There  was  a  Portuguese  Count 
who  sometimes  dropped  in  to  dine  at  the  Hotel  Central. 
He  was  tall  and  handsome,  but  enormously  conceited.  On 
the  day  of  which  I  speak  this  gentleman  was  seated  op- 
posite the  aforesaid  lady,  whom  he  had  not  before  seen 
but  of  whom  he  had  evidently  heard.  He  directed  his 
gaze  at  his  fair  vis-a-vis  pretty  steadily  during  the  meal. 
She  had  the  fortitude  to  endure  this  impudence  without 
displaying  annoyance.  When  the  table  was  cleared  and 
the  desert  was  brought  on,  the  Portuguese  Count  proceed- 
ed to  peel  an  orange  in  the  most  artistic  style,  leaving  it 
attached  to  the  rind  which  had  been  separated  in  the  form 
of  a  star.  Placing  it  upon  the  palm  of  his  aristocratic 
white  hand,  he  reached  across  the  table  and  offered  the 
orange  to  the  lady  with  some  complimentary  phrase. 
Under  the  circumstances  this  was  a  distinct  affront.  The 
lady  declined  the  proffered  fruit  with  dignity,  saying  that 
she  was  not  eating  oranges  that  day.  The  Count  had  not 
recovered  from  so  evident  a  rebuff,  when  she  reached  over 
to  the  dish  of  oranges  herself,  selected  one  and  proceeded 
to  peel  it.  The  Count  sprang  from  his  seat,  hastened  from 
the  room  and  the  hotel,  and  was  not  seen  there  again 
while  I  was   in  Portugal. 

The  sensation  produced  by  this  incident  was  immense, 
and  the  tact  and  spirit  of  the  lady  were  universally  ap- 
plauded. 

Having  "sampled"  the  famed  old  reserve  port  in  the 
vaults  of  Oporto,  to  my  taste  the  finest  of  wines,  (to  which 


285 


and  close  lifter  it  I  would  add  prime  Madeira,  like  the 
vintage  of  1868,  for  example)  ;  and  having  made  many 
pleasant  acquaintances,  and  formed  a  lasting  attachment 
for  dear  old  Portugal,  its  superb  scenery,  architecture  and 
romantic  story,  of  which  I  contrived  to  see  a  great  deal  in 
various  directions,  I  took  passage  in  the  Maria  Pia  for 
Madeira.  After  remaining  there  two  weeks  on  this  my 
third  visit  to  that  magical  isle — I  could  not  tear  myself 
away  from  that  Paradise  in  less  time — I  sailed  for  the 
"Blue  Canary  Isles,"  the  objective  point  of  this  expedition. 


286 


CHAPTER   XII. 

BOSTON,  AND  A  TRIP  TO  CUBA. 

My  art  life  in  Boston  and  New  York  was  full  of  in- 
terest but  it  must  be  given  small  space  in  this  record  of 
memories.  I  went  to  Boston  to  study  and  to  paint  and 
not  from  special  interest  in  its  literary  circles.  In  fact 
I  was  prejudiced  against  them  because  of  the  reputation 
for  snobbishness  and  intellectual  arrogance  which  Boston 
had  gained.  Of  all  vanities  that  of  intellectual  arrogance 
had  always  seemed  to  me  the  least  reasonable,  for  aside 
from  the  fact  that  mind  is  greatly  an  inheritance,  there 
is  the  thought  of  how  far  the  wisdom  of  the  most  cul- 
tured mind  is,  from  the  wisdom  and  intelligence  of  possible 
higher  attainment.  What  one  knows,  is  so  far  from  all 
that  one  does  not  know  and  ma}'  not  attain  for  ages  to 
come,  why  should  little  man  be  proud! 

Although  I  did  not  seek  them,  it  happened  that  I  met 
in  a  friendly  way  several  of  Boston's  "shining  lights." 
Emerson,  the  real  leader  of  the  Hub's  literary  circle,  I 
have  before  this  mentioned  in  these  records.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  modest  and  unassuming  of  them  all.  Long- 
fellow, from  whom  I  had  received  some  very  courteous  and 
kindly  notes,  I  found  to  be  one  of  the  most  agreeable, 
perhaps  the  ideal  "literary  man"  socially.     Possessed  of 

287 
19 


ample  means  and  social  position,  his  scholarship  in  cer- 
tain directions  thorough,  his  poetry  agreeable,  (if  not 
great),  his  mind  cultivated,  he  rightly  claimed  the  position 
that  Boston  and  the  public  generally,  gave  to  him. 
Holmes,  I  met  several  times.  It  always  seemed  to  me  (ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  life-long  friends)  acquaintance  with  him, 
would  have  to  be  at  the  cost  of  incense,  galore.  In  spite  of 
his  reputation  as  a  "Boston  snob"  he  was  a  man  of  ability, 
of  large  reading  and  talent,  but  (or  so  he  impressed  me) 
with  only  a  spark  of  real  genius.  Aldrich  I  always  found 
agreeable,  though  inclined  to  be  someAvhat  "airy" ;  as  a 
raconteur  I  have  never  known  his  superior.  Hopkinson 
Smith  was  a  brilliant  rival  of  Aldrich  in  this  respect  al- 
though rather  as  a  reciter  of  dramatic  scenes  arranged 
by  others,  than  as  a  narrator  of  incidents  personal  to 
himself.  Aldrich  visited  my  studio  once  with  a  dis- 
tinguished engraver  (A.  V.  S.  Anthony)  and  I  shall  never 
forget  his  witty  account  to  us  of  his  ascent  in  a  captive 
balloon.  We  laughed  till  the  tears  rolled  from  our  eyes. 
His  description  was  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard.  When 
Aldrich  was  editor  of  the  Atlantic  he  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  arranging  terms  with  contributors,  saying  he 
knew  nothing  about  business.  He  was  shrewd  and  wise ! 
Howells  was  introduced  to  me  by  an  old  friend,  as- 
sociated with  the  firm  that  is  now  "Houghton,  Miflin  and 
Co.  (Horace  E.  Scudder)  and  I  wish  to  acknowledge  to 
Scudder,  right  here,  my  indebtedness  for  numerous  liter- 
ary courtesies.  Howells  was  at  that  time  thoroughly 
identified  with  the  Boston  literary  aristocracy,  and  was 
editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  He  was  the  peer  of  any 
New  England  writer  except  Emerson  and  Hawthorne, 
whose  calibre  is  at  the  top  of  American  authorship.     He 


288 


was  a  western  man  and  not  a  Harvard  graduate.  He 
told  me  once  that  it  was  a  source  of  regret  to  him  that  he 
was  not  a  college  graduate,  "not,"  he  quickly  alluded, 
"that  a  college  education  is  at  all  a  requisite  to  success, 
but  because  it  offers  interesting  experience,  and  is  a  de- 
lightful adjunct  to  one's  store  of  memories." 

To  the  writer  of  creative  work  (poems,  fiction,  etc.) 
the  chief  sources  of  information,  I  think,  and  of  dis- 
cipline must  be  Nature,  and  one's  own  inner  thought ; 
collegiate  education  can  only  give  style  to  the  mode  of 
expression ;  but  to  the  professional  man,  to  the  scholar, 
college  education   does   seem  to   me,  practically  essential. 

Howells  was  not  a  wide  liker,  but  one  whose  sympathies 
were  limited.  His  sympathy  for  the  anarchist  spoke  better 
for  his  heart  than  his  head.  His  attack  on  Thackeray 
and  Dickens  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  from  a  desire 
(when  his  influence  was  waning)  to  do  something  a  little 
emotional,  to  attract  attention  to  himself,  and  thus  per- 
haps to  renew  his  popularity  with  the  public.  Mr.  How- 
ells although  very  courteous  in  receiving  friends,  could 
be  easily  aroused  to  rudeness  if  they  dared  differ  from 
him  in  opinion,  and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  he  was  still 
somewhat  unsophisticated  in  social  conventialities  and 
that  he  was  naturally  intolerant.  He  was  kind  enough  to 
put  my  first  article  on  French  art  in  the  A  tlantic  Montlily, 
at  the  head  of  the  number.  After  that,  several  of  my  ar- 
ticles  appeared  in   that  exclusive  periodical. 

Bradford  Torrey  was  another  interesting  man.  I  met 
him  in  Boston.  He  eventually  acquired  a  name  highly 
esteemed  by  a  choice  audience,  for  his  enthusiasm  over 
New  England  ornithology  and  flora;  he  had  an  effective 
style,  and  won   a  place  for  himself  with   such  writers  as 


289 


Isaac  Walton,  Gilbert  White,  Thoreau,  Burrows,  and 
other  naturalists.  I  met  also  in  Boston  salons,  the  fas- 
cinating Mrs.  Katharine  McDowell,  a  beautiful  southern- 
er, who  was  the  heroine  of  a  story  published  after  her 
death,  entitled  The  Story  of  Margaret  Kent.  It  was 
said  Longfellow  fell  in  love  with  her  and  wished  to  marry 
her.  Another  good  friend  I  made  in  Boston  was  Samuel 
R.  Crocker,  the  founder  of  the  Literary  World.  He  im- 
pressed me  at  my  first  interview  as  looking  like  a  portrait 
from  Rembrandt;  his  pale  face,  with  black,  piercing  eyes, 
hair  and  beard  like  the  raven.  From  the  first  we  were 
friends  ;  he  seemed  to  have  taken  an  extraordinary  liking 
to  me.  He  had  all  the  resources  of  a  well-stored  mind. 
He  started  the  Literary  World  with  sheer  pluck,  without 
funds,  and  at  first  wrote  every  word  of  it  himself.  He 
had  no  hobby  to  ride,  no  partizanship  to  bias  his  judg- 
ment, he  feared  no  one,  neither  author,  publisher,  sect  or 
the  public.  Eventually  success  came — well  known  con- 
tributors sent  articles,  his  gains  increased,  until  he  was 
able  to  buy  a  pleasant  home  for  his  wife  and  children, 
where  I  was  invited  to  dine  the  Sunday  after  they  moved 
in,  to  share  their  happiness. 

But  the  strain  had  been  too  great,  something  was 
likely  to  give  way,  and  he  was  urged  to  seek  rest  for  a 
time.  He  asked  me  if  I  would  assume  charge  of  the  Literary 
World  for  a  month  or  more,  which  I  consented  to  do. 
But  the  "rest"  for  him  came  too  late.  Paresis  had  set  in. 
In  less  than  a  year  he  passed  away. 

When  I  knew  that  the  Literary  World  was  "for  sale," 
I  resolved  to  buy  it.  I  approved  its  policy,  and  knew 
what  could  be  made  of  it.  I  could  drop  all  magazine 
work    (writing  what   editors   preferred,   I   detested)    and 


290 


though  my  painting  paid  well,  I  foresaw  the  "hard  times" 
would  soon  affect  it.  Here  then  was  a  property  I  could 
make  of  permanent  value,  giving  me  a  chance  to  develop 
a  power  of  my  own  which  should  bring  influence  and 
shekels. 

From  motives  of  delicacy  I  decided  to  wait  twenty-four 
hours,  hesitating  to  be  in  too  great  haste  to  profit  by 
the  misfortunes  of  my  friend.  Other  parties  got  in  their 
application  first,  and  secured  an  option  which  the}^  were 
not  going  to  allow  to  escape  them.  It  was  a  great  I'egret 
to  me,  and  really  a  turning  point  in  my  life — for  circum- 
stances soon  after  led  me  to  leave  Boston  for  a  life  in 
New  York. 

I  must  add  a  word  here  of  some  of  the  artists  I  met  in 
Boston.  Mr.  Walter  Smith  was  director  of  the  Massachu- 
setts Normal  Art  School.  He  was  an  enthusiast  in  his 
vocation,  and  he  believed  in  forcing  artistic  genius  by 
rule  and  law.  When  my  article  on  French  art  appeared, 
he  asked  me  to  lecture  before  the  Normal  Art  School.  This 
led  to  other  invitations  in  Boston  and  vicinity,  and  to  a 
lecture  before  the  Peabody  Institute.  In  those  days,  one 
of  the  most  considerable  figures  in  Boston  art  circles, 
was  William  Morris  Hunt.  His  appearance  was  most 
distinguished,  there  was  something  patrician  about  his 
look  and  bearing.  I  met  him  many  times,  and  always 
found  him  distinctly  affable,  although  he  had  a  reputation 
for  snobbishness.  He  was  a  great  portrait  painter,  es- 
pecially of  men;  but  his  creative  genius  was  less  apparent. 

Hunt's  two  paintings  for  the  State  House  at  Albany 
told  greatly  on  his  strength.  His  mind  did  not  move 
spontaneously  in  conception.  Hunt's  important  work 
while   abroad   was   to    study    and   introduce   to   American 


291 


artists,  new  methods  of  technique  and  composition.  He 
turned  up  the  dead  soil  of  conventionalism,  and  he  also 
suggested  the  advantage  of  daring  and  force,  in  art  ex- 
pression. All  this  brought  him  as  many  enemies  as 
friends,  in  Boston. 

George  Inness  was  never  permanently  identified  with 
the  Boston  art  circle,  but  he  happened  to  be  temporarily 
located  there,  while  I  was  in  Boston.  His  studio  was  in 
the  rooms  of  the  Boston  Art  Club  (as  was  my  own)  and 
I  saw  him  often,  and  perhaps  more  than  I  saw  him  in  New 
York.  He  was  almost  as  much  of  an  "original,"  and  as  un- 
conventional as  Turner.  He  was  of  Scotch  descent  and 
had  Highland  blood  in  his  veins  doubtless ;  to  look  at  his 
face  you  would  have  pronounced  him  a  Kelt  or  an  Indian, 
but  a  glance  at  his  clothes  suggested  a  Baptist  or  a 
Methodist  preacher.  He  was  essentially  religious,  with  a 
strong  bias  toward  mysticism.  It  was  said  he  was  a 
Swedenborgian,  but  his  thought  followed  a  range  of  its 
own,  leading  him  into  those  nebulous  regions  where  he  con- 
ceived the  superb  atmosphere,  possibly,  that  he  depicted 
on  his  noble  canvasses.  He  delighted  to  talk,  and  spoke 
with  eloquence,  while  he  paced  with  long  strides  up  and 
down  the  room,  his  mind  soon  wandering  into  mystical 
harrangues.  If  interrupted,  he  would  break  short  off, 
and  go  to  the  window  or  leave  the  room.  Inness  had  little 
vanity  or  self-consciousness,  but  was  a  profound  observer 
and  egotist,  and  he  painted  by  the  sheer  inspiration  of 
genius. 

Naturally  I  met  scores  of  other  Boston  artists,  some 
of  whom  I  came  to  know  and  like  well,  as  for  example, 
A.  F.  Fellows  and  John  E.  C.  Peterson,  who  claimed  to 
have  been  in  the  Danish  Navy  and  painted  sea  pictures. 


292 


George  Fuller  who  was  in  pictorial  art,  something  of 
what  Hawthorne  was  in  literary,  distinctly  creative.  Then 
there  was  Bannister,  a  negro,  good  looking  and  intelli- 
gent, with  the  manners  of  a  gentleman,  and  as  an  artist, 
with  a  vigorous  and  natural  style — he  lived  in  Providence. 
There  was  also  A.  P.  Close,  who  made  excellent  illustra- 
tions for  the  Riverside  Magazine  to  which  I  contributed 
articles.  Through  this  talented  young  artist  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  E.  L.  Weeks,  who  died  in  1903,  after  a 
brilliant  career  as  a  painter  of  Oriental  scenes.  He  was 
himself  so  decidedly  oriental  in  looks  that  habited  in 
Moorish  garb,  Weeks  could  easily  have  passed  for  an 
Arab  gentleman  of  Damascus.  He  was  intensely  am- 
bitious, had  much  travel  and  study ;  and  with  a  powerful 
constitution,  was  energetic  to  a  degree.  As  an  artist. 
Weeks'  sense  of  form  and  movement  was  naturall}^  feeble, 
but  he  had  the  eastern  love  for  brilliant  effects  and  over- 
came any  lack,  by  diligent  study  in  Paris.  His  pictures 
are  well  up  in  the  technical  standards  of  the  French 
school;  they  represent  objects  in  repose  and  suggest  still 
life. 

Weeks  urged  Close  and  myself  to  go  with  him  on  a 
journey  to  Turkey  and  Syria.  I  might  have  done  so  but 
for  meeting  Capt.  Hardy,  who  fired  my  brain  with  his 
descriptions  of  new  things  to  be  seen  in  Madeira.  Close 
and  Weeks  therefore  sailed  without  me,  and  reached 
Palestine,  where  Close  succumbed  to  the  climate,  and  the 
sod  of  the  Holy  Land  closed  over  the  remains  of  this 
pure,  young  life  forever. 

On  the  whole,  I  found  life  in  Boston  sufficiently  amusing, 
and  quite  as  stimulating  to  the  brain  as  was  necessary. 
I   found  the   intense   clan   sentiment   very   much   like   the 


m 


"caste"  feeling  in  India,  the  entire  atmosphere  being  per- 
vaded by  the  essence  of  snobbery.  It  was  delicious  to 
study  the  airiness  of  even  some  very  young  snobs  of 
the  genus  "Bostonian."  All  these  cliques,  though  distinct 
and  at  different  social  elevations,  in  the  main  stood  to- 
gether like  the  bricks  of  a  solid  wall,  and  so  formed  are 
an  essential  feature  of  Boston's  esprit  du  corps  or  pro- 
vincialism. The  city  was  not  then,  so  large  or  spread  out 
as  at  present,  but  was  like  a  hive,  containing  one  great 
family,  the  buzz  of  whose  petty  cliques  could  be  heard 
from  Dorchester  to  the  North  End  and  from  Newton 
to  Long  Wharf. 

The  activity  was  enormous,  but  it  was  of  the  head, 
rather  than  the  heart,  and  Bostonians  grew  up  cold  to 
those  who  happened  to  live  in  other  social  atmospheres. 
Boston  can  display  waves  of  sympathy  at  times,  on  sud- 
den emergencies,  but  the  sympathy  is  for  intellectual  ob- 
jects or  for  public  emergencies,  and  often  exhibits  a 
heartless  censorship  over  private  needs.  And  so  this 
little,  great  city  interested  me  for  its  littleness  and  for 
its  greatness.  I  could  fill  a  book  with  narratives  illus- 
trating my  text,  which  would  be  very  entertaining,  but 
my  life  moves  on  to  other  phases ! 

In  1876  I  went  to  Europe  to  prepare  articles  re- 
quested by  Harper's  Magazine  on  "Art  life  abroad,"  and 
visited  the  south  of  France  and  all  that  romantic  region 
between  the  Gulf  of  Lyons  and  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  in- 
cluding afterward  the  old  cities  of  Avignon  and  Carcas- 
sonne which  I  had  always  longed  to  see.  My  two  journeys 
abroad  at  that  time,  ended  in  arriving  again  at  Boston, 
but  somehow  the  place  seemed  changed.  During  my  few 
years  of  absence  Long  Wharf  and  Grey's  Wharf,  among 


294 


other  old  landmarks  had  been  modernized  and  failed  to 
interest  me. 

The  time  comes  in  one's  life  when  in  the  rapidly  shift- 
ing panorama,  we  feel  the  impelling  power  toward  new 
scenes.  Another  stage  in  the  drama  was  to  be  enacted,  and 
it  requires  other  scenes  and  other  characters. 

It  soon  after  seemed  expedient  I  should  move  to  New 
York  because  of  a  cold,  the  severe  east  winds  of  Boston 
helped  to  increase,  and  because  of  the  desire  of  being  nearer 
to  some  of  the  publishing  houses.  When  I  told  Howells 
I  was  going  to  New  York  to  live,  in  his  mellow,  sarcastic 
way  he  said,  "So,  Benjamin,  you  prefer  quantity  to 
quality !"  "No ;"  I  replied,  "I  am  going  because  I  like 
the  quality  so  well.  I  wish  to  get  more  of  it !"  In  a  year 
or  two  Howells  followed,  and  has  continued  in  New  York 
ever  since. 

The  wisdom  of  transferring  my  headquarters  to  New 
York  became  immediately  apparent.  The  busiest  ten 
years  of  my  life  began  as  soon  as  I  was  settled  in  my  studio 
in  tlie  Y.  M.  C.  A.  building  on  the  corner  of  23rd  Street 
and  Fourth  Avenue.  I  afterward  took  a  studio  in  the 
old  University  Building  on  Washington  Square,  to  whicli 
I  was  attracted  by  its  romantic  character.  That  grim, 
feudal  looking  pile  of  granite  was  one  of  the  interesting 
landmarks  of  New  York,  and  many  there  were,  who  re- 
gretted its  demolition.  Aside  from  its  aspect,  it  had  a 
semi-historical  character  because  of  the  well  known  in- 
dividuals who  had  occupied  its  apartments.  For  the 
purpose  of  adding  to  its  revenues  the  University  had 
reserved  to  itself  only  the  second  floor,  which  was  used 
for  recitation  rooms  and  a  chapel.  One  did  not  realize 
until   he  actually   occupied  quarters   there,   how   spacious 


295 


was  the  interior,  and  how  winding  and  numerous  were 
its  corridors  and  staircases.  There  was  no  elevator,  and 
one  liad  to  climb  and  walk  real  distances  to  find  anyone. 
This  made  it  a  fine  place  for  thieves,  and  robberies  were 
not  infrequent. 

Ed^win  White,  the  portrait  painter,  had  his  studio 
once  at  the  University  building.  Winthrop,  the  author 
of  Cecil  Dreeme,  who  by  his  soldier's  fate,  gave  a 
vogue  to  works,  that  had  looked  for  a  publisher  in  vain, 
lived  and  wrote  there  until  the  Civil  War  called  him 
to  battle.  And  Morse,  a  portrait-painter  better  known 
as  the  electrician,  experimented  on  the  roof  with  the 
invention  that  was  to  give  him  immortality.  Winslow 
Homer,  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  had  painted  in  the 
studio  that  I  occupied  later.  It  was  a  rare  old  room  that 
I  enjoyed  there  until  the  climb  to  it  up  the  long  stair- 
ways proved  too  severe.  It  was  one  of  three  immense 
studios  at  the  top  of  the  building,  made  by  cutting  off 
the  north  part  of  the  chapel.  My  room  was  about  24 
by  25  feet  and  21  feet  high.  There  were  two  lancet 
shaped  windows  and  the  vaulted  ceiling  was  grained, 
ribbed,  and  supported  by  angles,  all  of  tinted  stucco,  but 
still  very  picturesque  and  in  an  American  studio,  unique. 
Shirlow,  who  has  recently  left  us,  had  the  studio  next  to 
mine,  and  I  was  able  to  continue  the  acquaintance  begun 
in  Munich  with  one  of  the  most  serious,  earnest,  con- 
scientious characters  who  has  appeared  in  our  art,  a  man 
whom  one  only  had  to  know  to  respect  and  admire.  I 
would  gladly  say  more  of  him,  but  I  foresee  that  if  I  were 
to  undertake  to  write  of  all  the  artists,  writers,  or  other 
distinguished  characters  with  Avhom  I  was  brought  in 
contact  during  my  New  York  life,  or  relate  the  incidents 


296 


occurring  under  my  observation,  I  should  never  exhaust 
the  subject  or  complete  this  record.  This  fact  will  ex- 
plain why  many  are  omitted  here,  or  merely  mentioned, 
aside  from  the  fact  that  it  is  inexpedient  to  say  much  of 
those  who  are  still  living. 

Before  I  had  fairly  got  into  the  vortex  of  the  New 
York  maelstrom  I  took  a  run  over  to  Bermuda  to  write 
it  up  for  my  forthcoming  book  on  the  Atlantic  Islands, 
which  was  published  by  the  Harpers  in  1878.  Although 
it  did  not  have  a  very  large  sale,  it  was  republished  in 
London,  and  brought  letters  to  me  on  the  subject  even 
from  Australia,  India,  and  other  distant  places.  The 
notices  of  it  were  also  excellent.  It  proved  to  me  that  mis- 
cellaneous collections,  even  when  made  up  of  cognate 
subjects,  are  not  attractive  to  the  popular  taste.  The 
case  is  similar  with  pictorial  compositions.  The  simpler 
a  composition  the  deeper  the  impression  produced.  If 
there  must  be  figures  or  objects,  care  must  be  taken  to 
have  one  figure  or  one  group  somewhat  more  impressive 
or  prominent  than  the  others  that  the  attention  may  be 
concentrated  upon  that ;  otherwise  the  work  is  likely  to 
prove  a  failure  so  far  as  concerns  its  popular  acceptance. 
It  matters  not  whether  it  be  a  historical  genre,  or  a 
cattle  or  ship  picture,  the  above  principle  of  composition 
applies   to  them  all. 

Soon  after  my  return  from  Bermuda  I  started  for 
a  trip  to  the  Sea  Islands  of  our  southern  coast.  At 
Fernandina  I  happened  to  run  across  an  excursion  party 
that  was  accompanying  Postmaster  General  Key  to  Cuba. 
He  was  going  there  to  look  personally  into  the  possibili- 
ties of  arranging  with  the  Governor  General  a  fast  mail 
service  from  New  York  to  Havana.    Mr.  Roberts,  (presi- 

297 


dent  of  the  company  that  was  desirous  of  conducting  this 
service),  Vice-President  Hamlin,  Senator  or  Ex-Governor 
Kirkwood,  and  Attorney  General  Campbell  were  the  other 
members  of  the  official  committee,  A  bright  party  of 
Washingtonians,  journalists,  officials  in  the  Departments, 
two  or  three  army  and  navy  officials  and  several  ladies 
had  been  invited  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  excursion 
and  relieve  the  dignity  of  the  official  element.  The  party 
had  stopped  at  Fernandina  to  meet  Ex-Senator  Yulee, 
who  resided  there,  and  had  some  pecuniary  interest  in 
the  success  of  the  enterprise.  There  was  to  be  a  ball  in 
the  evening  at  the  Egmont  House  where  I  was  staying, 
in  honor  of  the  excursionists.  As  things  turn  out  some- 
times on  such  occasions,  I  came  fortuitously  in  contact 
with  Mr.  Roberts  and  others  of  the  party,  who  insisted 
in  the  kindest  manner  that  I  should  accompany  them  to 
Cuba,  offering  not  only  to  pay  all  my  expenses  but  to 
give  me  a  return  ticket  by  rail  to  New  York,  as  I  had 
not  yet  finished  my  tour  among  the  Sea  Islands.  I  did 
not  hesitate   to   accept   this   generous   opportunity. 

The  party  left  Fernandina  for  the  west  coast  of  Florida 
by  rail,  stopping  at  various  places  to  see  what  little  of 
interest  is  offered  the  stranger  in  the  northern  part  of 
the  peninsula. 

At  Cedar  Keys  we  had  to  wait  a  day  for  the  boat,  and 
the  party  devoted  several  hours  to  fishing  from  the  win- 
dows of  the  train  which  was  switched  off  on  to  a  tressel- 
work  making  an  arm  of  the  Gulf.  It  is  not  often  that 
fish  are  caught  in  that  way.  At  Key  West  the  whole 
town  turned  out  to  meet  us,  and  the  City  government  gave 
us  a  banquet  in  the  town  hall.  The  collector  of  the  port 
placed  his  bathing  enclosure  at  our  disposal.     It  was  pro- 


298 


tected  by  strong  high  stakes  planted  close  together,  and 
as  I  swam  within  the  enclosure  I  could  see  the  huge  sharks 
rubbing  their  noses  against  the  palisade,  longing  for  a 
chance  to  get  hold  of  me.  It  was  rather  a  gruesome 
sight,  qualified  to  make  one  nervous  even  though  apparent- 
ly safe.  We  went  on  board  the  U.  S.  Surveying  boat, 
and  there  I  met  Lieutenant,  afterward  Captain  Sigsbee, 
who  in  later  years  was  commander  of  the  Ma'me,  when 
blown  up  at  Havana.  It  is  worth  stating  here  that  when 
the  Maine  was  building  I  was  probably  the  first  to  visit, 
describe  and  illustrate  her  for  the  periodical  press. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  morning  of  our  landing  at 
Havana.  Not  because  there  was  anything  remarkable 
to  me,  who  had  landed  at  so  many  far  more  interesting 
places,  in  the  mere  fact  of  going  on  shore  at  this  then 
dirty  port  amid  a  throng  of  negroes,  idle  Cubans  and 
lounging  troops,  although  the  spectacle  had  a  certain 
interest.  But  there  was  one  circumstance  connected  with 
this    event   that   is    ineffaceable. 

This  was  the  incident,  and  I  think  it  worth  recording 
because  it  illustrates  not  so  much  republican  simplicity 
as  a  lack  of  true  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  and  a  self 
complacency  that  leads  us  to  forget  the  respect  due  to 
those  who,  whether  personally  or  as  public  officials,  have 
a  right  to  be  met  with  respect.  The  committee  had  gone 
to  Havana  in  the  interests  of  the  two  countries,  and  was 
composed  of  some  of  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  United 
States.  Recognizing  this  fact,  the  Governor  General  of 
Cuba  sent  an  official  deputation  on  board  to  welcome  and 
escort  the  travelling  delegation  to  their  hotel.  The  mem- 
bers of  this  official  deputation  were  in  full  official  uni- 
form, as  was  perfectly  proper.     And  how  did  the  distin- 


299 


guished  American  committee  receive  them?  Without  coats, 
but  in  straw  hats,  linen  dusters  and  collars  without  any 
cravat  or  necktie  whatever.  And  in  this  noble  costume 
they  landed  and  paraded  between  the  gaping  multitude 
on  the  street.  The  weather  was  hot,  it  is  true,  but  it  is 
sometimes  as  warm  in  New  York ;  and  not  one  of  these 
gentlemen  would  have  dared  to  present  himself  on  any 
public  official  occasion  at  Washington  in  such  preposterous 
dress,  whatever  the  temperature.  That  they  did  it  at 
Havana  seemed  like  sheer,  discourteous  bravado ;  a  dis- 
tinct affront  to  the  Government  with  which  they  pro- 
posed to  form  an  advantageous  postal  contract.  When 
they  waited  on  the  Governor  General  at  his  palace,  one 
or  two  of  these  gentlemen  had  so  far  recovered  their 
senses,  as  to  donn  black  frock  coats ;  but  several  did  ac- 
tually penetrate  into  his  presence,  in  those  infernal  linen 
dusters.  Some  years  after  this  incident,  when  Senator 
Hamlin,  a  very  able  man,  was  minister  to  Madrid,  I  have 
been  told  that  he  has  been  seen  carrying  an  unwrapped 
pair  of  old  boots  in  his  hand  to  be  cobbled  at  a  cheap  shoe- 
maker's around  the  corner.  When  one  occupies  a  promi- 
nent post  among  foreigners  who  do  not  understand  the 
sense  of  such  incongruities,  this  is  a  childish  ostentation 
of  republican  simplicity,  like  that  of  the  Spartans  who 
Avent  to  the  Olympic  games  in  rags.  It  indicates  to  my 
mind  a  mental  condition  that  has  not  yet  grown  to  un- 
derstand the  true  relation  of  things. 

On  my  return  I  left  the  party  at  Gainesville  and  skir- 
mished about  the  Sea  Islanders  at  my  leisure.  Among  var- 
ious points  visited  during  this  to  me,  important  trip  was 
to  Cumberland  Island,  which  I  was  the  first  to  describe 
for  the  public.     It  was  well  I  went  there  at  that  time,  and 


300 


made  a  sketch  of  Dungeness,  which  appeared  afterwards 
in  Harper's  Monthly.  Dungeness  was  the  stately  man- 
orhouse  of  the  island.  It  was  of  cochina  which  was  still  in 
firm  condition,  hut  the  roof  had  caught  fire  when  the  slaves 
were  in  charge  during  the  war  and  been  consumed.  When 
I  saw  the  ruin  the  windows  were  bare,  but  the  lofty  walls 
were  standing  tapestried  with  flowering  vines.  It  was 
situated  on  the  edge  of  what  I  cannot  but  think  the  noblest 
oak  forest,  since  Paradise,  reaching  unbroken  for  twenty 
miles,  the  trunks  regular  as  the  pillars  of  Cordova's  mos- 
que, and  shaded  with  Druidic  gloom  like  a  temple  of 
primeval  gods.  All  around  boomed  the  deep  roar  of  the 
ocean,  melting  away  into  the  shadows ;  altogether  the  most 
romantic  and  impressive  woodland  scene  I  have  encounter- 
ed since  I  gazed  on  ^Madeira's  Vol  Paraiso.  I  am  glad  I 
saw  it  then,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  see  it  again.  The  Car- 
negies  bought  the  island;  and  the  first  thing  they  did,  was 
to  tear  down  Dungeness,  one  of  the  few  really  pictures- 
que, sentiment-invested  ruins  in  America.  What  else  they 
have  done  to  modernize  the  island  I  neither  know  nor  care. 
Doubtless  they  have  beautified  the  place  in  an  artificial  and 
fashionable  sense,  but  they  never  can  restore  the  superb 
solitary  sylvan  splendor  of  Cumberland  Island  and  old 
Dungeness.  Fort  George  Island  also  dreAv  me  to  its  heart 
with  its  delicate,  subtropical  witchery,  its  stately  oaks  and 
palms  waving  with  rhytlnnic  music  in  the  steady  sweep  of 
the  northeast  trades.  Fortunate  did  I  think  myself,  when 
I  landed  on  this  lovely  islet,  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Johns, 
the  scene  of  some  of  the  most  thrilling  tragedies  of  our 
early  history,  the  domain  at  one  time  of  that  quaint  cliar- 
acter,  Capt.  Kingsley,  but  now  the  fighting  ground  of 
speculators   and   promoters.      I   look   liack  to   the   days   I 


301 


passed  there,  more  as  if  it  were  a  dream  of  storied  isles  in 
the  old  world,  than  of  a  spot  on  the  more  prosaic  shores 
of  this  western  land.  On  my  return  what  I  said  about 
Fort  George  Island  in  Harper's  Monthly  contributed 
to  attract  attention  to  the  island  and  to  lead  to  the  forma- 
tion of  a  syndicate  which  bought  1,500  acres,  being  most 
of  the  island,  and  erected  a  handsome  hotel  there.  I 
joined  the  syndicate  and  put  in  a  small  amount.  The  en- 
terprise promised  success ;  but  there  were  too  many  in  the 
company  for  the  amount  of  the  capital  invested,  dif- 
ficulties arose  out  of  the  title,  and  when  the  syndicate  was 
reformed  I  drew  out  of  it,  glad  that  I  had  not  lost  more. 
Later  I  wrote  an  article  for  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  in 
which  I  claimed  from  careful  observations  on  the  spot, 
that  when  Parkman  wrote  his  stirring  account  of  the 
bloody  conflicts  between  the  French  and  Spaniards  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river  of  INIay  or  St.  Johns,  entitled  the 
"Vengeance  of  Dominique  de  Gourgoes,"  he  had  not  been 
on  the  ground,  and  had  fallen  into  palpable  error  in  the 
location  of  the  fort,  and  hence  in  his  description  of  the 
movements  of  the  hostile  forces.  There  was  nothing  to 
answer  to  my  statements,  which  were  conclusive.  Whether 
Parkman's  mistake  was  corrected  in  later  editions  of  his 
book  I  am  not  aware;  but  probably  not;  because  to  do  so 
would  have  required  the  rewriting  of  much  of  his  narra- 
tive. 

But  the  most  important  result  of  my  trip  to  Havana, 
lay  in  the  fact  that  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  lady  who, 
(with  her  brother)  was  an  invited  guest  of  the  party!  I 
saw  little  of  her  then,  but  several  years  later,  she  became 
my  life-friend  and  partner ;  and  this  marriage,  led  in  a  way 
to  my  becoming  United  States  Minister  to  Persia.     That 


302 


is  the  way  events  of  our  life  are  woven  together,  one  un- 
foreseen incident  leading  to  another,  apparently  by  our 
nominal  free  agency,  but  practically  by  a  mysterious 
energy  that  takes  us  hither  and  thither.  As  we  look  back 
over  our  lives,  we  see  that  the  important  crises  of  life 
have  come  from  unexpected,  often  trivial  incidents,  with 
which  we  had  little  or  nothing  to  do  apparently.  Where 
does  our  free  agency  appear,  in  this  sequence  of  events? 
The  problem  is  too  deep  for  me,  too  deep  for  the  solution 
or  any  mortal  in  this  mundane  existence.  But  whether  I 
can  solve  this  question  or  no,  I  can  now  see  with  the  ut- 
most distinctness  the  various  turning  points  in  my  life, 
and  the  various  steps  of  cause  and  effect,  that  have  led 
me  from  one  stage  to  another.  How  they  affected  my 
character  I  cannot  discern  with  the  same  clearness.  I 
cannot  yet  see  that  character  is  shaped  by  events ;  rather 
are  they  seized  or  shaped  by  character.  What  man  is  at 
his  birth  he  is  at  his  death.  Only  the  events  of  his  life, 
if  he  lives  to  maturity,  tend  to  bring  out  with  increasing 
vividness,  the  original  traits  and  tendencies,  some  of  which, 
at  times,  lie  dormant  half  a  life  time,  until  called  into  ac- 
tion by  the  electric  spark  of  manifest  destiny. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  characters  I  met  soon 
after  going  to  New  York  was  Mr.  Oliver  B.  Bunce  the 
literary  manager  of  D.  Appleton  and  Company.  No  one 
had  a  kinder  heart  than  Mr.  Bunce  or  a  more  unfortunate 
manner,  i.  e.  unfortunate  to  those  who  did  not  know  him. 
I  called  to  see  him  with  reference  to  the  publication  of  an 
article  in  Appleton^s  Magazine.  He  received  me  curtly, 
but  asked  me  to  sit  down,  and  then  attacked  my  article 
so  savagely  that  I  considered  myself  lost.  After  letting 
off  this  blast,  the  first  and  only  example  of  the   sort  I 

303 
20 


ever  experienoed  in  an  American  editorial  office,  he  quieted 
down  to  the  mildness  of  a  summer  evening,  and  actually  ac- 
cepted and  published  my  paper  without  altering  a  word ! 
When  I  left,  he  asked  me  to  call  again,  and  what  was  more 
amazing,  gave  me  an  invitation  to  the  hospitalities  of  the 
Sunday  evening  literary  receptions  at  his  house.  I  at- 
tended these  soirees  several  times  and  found  them  alto- 
gether informal  and  partly  for  that  reason  very  enter- 
taining; partly  also  owing  to  the  unaffected  cordiality  of 
the  host  and  his  attractive  family.  The  feature  of  the 
evening  was  the  free  and  easy  supper,  where  we  sat 
around  tables  and  all  joined  in  the  conversation.  The 
company  was  rather  miscellaneous  and  Bohemian,  but  one 
often  met  bright,  well  known  people  there  whose  ac- 
quaintance was  well  worth  the  making. 

Mr.  Bunce  asked  me  to  write  two  books  for  the  Apple- 
ton's  Handy  Volume  Series,  The  Multitudinous  Seas  and 
The  World's  Paradises.  Fortunately  they  were  both 
kindly  received  by  critics  and  public,  and  sold  well.  The 
first  I  wrote  in  four  days.  It  was  a  subject  I  knew  thor- 
oughly and  loved  with  enthusiasm.  The  second  pleased 
him  so  well,  especially  as  I  had  not  stinted  my  material  to 
keep  within  the  limits  of  the  remuneration — a  mistake 
which  some  authors  make  in  these  mercenary  days — that 
he  actually  surprised  me  by  an  additional  check  above  the 
sum  agreed  upon. 

Later  in  1884,  Mr.  Bunce  made  me  a  cash  offer  for 
The  Cruise  of  the  Alice  May,  after  it  had  appeared  in 
the  Century  Magazine,  and  brought  it  out  in  handsome 
form.  I  am  very  glad  to  have  this  opportunity  to  pay 
this  tribute  here,  to  one  of  the  kindest  and  best  friends 
I  ever  met  in  my  literary  labors. 


304 


I  had  contracted  with  Scribner's  to  write  a  concise  nar- 
rative and  critical  account  of  the  Trojan  Legend,  with 
the  title,  Troy,  Its  Legend,  Literature,  and  Topog- 
raphy. The  study  I  had  given  to  the  subject  when  I 
wrote  my  Choice  of  Paris,  years  before,  was  now 
of  material  aid  to  me.  The  book  was  to  be  one  of  their 
series  of  Epochs  of  History.  It  proved  successful  as 
such  books  go,  both  with  critics  and  buyers.  Part  of  it 
I  dictated  while  at  the  same  time  painting  at  my  easel.  As 
Schliemann  was  about  to  issue  another  work  on  Troy,  and 
I  was  anxious  to  anticipate  some  of  his  forthcoming  state- 
ments by  a  theory  of  my  own,  in  the  early  Autumn  as 
the  holiday  book  trade  was  approaching,  I  was  obliged  to 
read  the  proofs  under  very  painful  circumstances.  My 
dear  wife,  after  an  illness  of  years,  which  she  had  borne 
with  great  patience,  passed  away.  Following  a  period  of 
comparative  quiet  with  my  brush  and  pen,  I  was  now 
again  to  enter  the  fascinating  field  which  I  found  so  con- 
genial and  which  I  especially  needed  at  this  time,  the  field 
of  active  adventure  and  open  air  effort.  It  was  preceded, 
however,  by  a  very  serious  illness  from  whose  first  effects 
I  was  the  better  able  to  recover  because  of  the  diversion 
and  travel  which  followed.  Three  of  us  were  dining  in 
the  garden  of  the  University  Club,  then  situated  on  the 
corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  thirty-fifth  street.  It  was  a 
mild  summer  afternoon,  but  there  was  steady  easterly 
wind  blowing.  I  began  to  cough  in  a  few  hours.  The 
cough  increased,  but  being  ignorant  of  the  symptoms  of 
bronchitis,  I  paid  little  attention  to  it  as  it  was  summer 
time,  until  a  friend  warned  me  that  I  was  threatened  with 
serious  trouble.  '  It  was  not  many  days  before  I  was 
forced  to  take  to  my  bed.     My  good  friend  Dr.  Walter  de 


305 


Forest  Day,  for  many  years  medical  inspector  of  the  New 
York  Board  of  Health  and  Professor  of  Materia  Medica 
in  the  College  of  Pharmac}^,  one  of  the  most  faithful 
friends  that  ever  a  man  had,  then  insisted  that  I  should 
go  to  his  house  for  more  careful  nursing.  One  of  the  best 
physicians  in  New  York  was  also  called  in,  and  I  lay 
there  for  several  weeks  in  the  clutches  of  acute  capillary 
bronchitis.  For  some  of  the  time  my  life  hung  by  a 
thread.  When  I  rallied  from  the  attack  and  was  able 
to  leave  the  house,  the  Doctors  told  me  that  with  care  I 
might  live  years,  but  that  my  breathing  apparatus  had 
received  a  permanent  shock,  and  that  I  should  be  liable 
at  any  time  to  fresh  attacks  any  one  of  which,  might  be 
fatal.  Their  prediction  has  proved  true.  Several  times 
have  I  been  brought  to  the  edge  of  the  grave  by  this  af- 
fliction, and  eventually  I  was  obliged  to  abandon  New 
York  and  live  directly  on  the  seashore  within  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Gulf  Stream  or  in  equally  mild  temperatures 
inland,  my  plans  and  life-work  being  more  or  less  shaped 
by  this  cause.  An  elastic  constitution,  intelligent  caution 
and  will  power  have  doubtless  been  valuable  to  me  in  this 
emergency,  and  also  the  steady  use  of  whiskey  and  tobac- 
co. I  had  enjoyed  them  in  moderation  for  some  years 
without  injury,  and  since  I  have  been  troubled  with  weak 
throat  and  lungs,  I  have  found  them  of  the  greatest  bene- 
fit thus  proving  that  nothing  is  more  absurd  or  mis- 
chievous than  to  undertake  to  formulate  dietetic  laws  for 
universal  application  or  to  shackle  widely  varying  in- 
dividual constitutions  and  temperaments,  by  cast-iron 
regulations,  or  to  try  to  enforce  such  regulations  by  rough 
treatment.  I  have  found  moderate  smoking  protective  and 
strengthening.    I  am,  however,  what  is  called  a  slow  smo- 


306 


ker.  I  do  not  smoke  with  quick  nervous  puffs,  as  some  do» 
and  do  not  inhale  the  smoke  into  the  lungs.  I  carefully 
avoid  cigarettes  also,  not  because  the  tobacco  in  them  is 
necessarily  worse  than  other  tobacco ;  sometimes  it  is  bet- 
ter, but  one  is  liable  to  take  more  smoke  in  his  lungs  from 
them  than  he  needs  either  for  health  or  enjoyment,  and 
the  paper  is  apt  to  be  injurious  to  the  tissues.  I  never 
yet  have  had  a  chill,  although  in  my  travels  I  have  been  in 
many  malodorous,  malarial  places,  have  been  among  rice 
fields  and  have  travelled  all  night  through  miasmatic  re- 
gions on  horseback  unaffected  by  night  airs.  I  consider 
this  immunity  due  in  part  to  tobacco,  which  is  a  deodorizer. 
I  am  convinced  that  I  also  owe  to  tobacco  and  spirits,  at 
least  in  part,  the  admirable  digestion  with  which  I  have 
always  been  blessed,  and  also  perhaps,  the  freedom  from 
thirst,  which  may  be  due  partly  to  my  fondness  for  tea. 
Except  in  the  hottest  weather  I  rarely  feel  a  sensation  of 
thirst,  and  sometimes  months  elapse  without  a  drop  of 
water  passing  my  lips  except  to  brush  my  teeth.  Some 
might  be  injured  by  it.  By  my  experience  is,  that  people 
are  so  differently  constituted,  "what  is  one  man's  meat, 
is  another's  poison."  This  is  the  reason  intelligent  and 
well-meaning  doctors  (especially  "experts"  with  theories) 
sometimes  kill,  or  fail  to  cure.  They  know  too  much,  and 
too  little! 


307 


MATURITY 

PART  IV 

THE  SAILOR'S  FATE. 

A  Sailor  born,  his  ship  he  loved. 

And  loved  the  sea,  with  love  that  greater  grew — 

And  ever  found  zchere  e'er  he  roved 

The  wild  blue  sea,  to  him,  was  friend  most  true. 

Then  let  the  waves  his  praises  sound. 
His  restless  heart  forever  calmed. 
Lower  him  a  thousand  fathoms  dozen 
With  solemn  vastness  of  the  sea  embalmed! 

There,  let  the  leaves  his  requiem  sing. 
While  o'er  his  corse,  the  trooping  ages  go! 
And  round  about  him,  as  round  King, 
The  royal  purple  of  the  Sea  enfolds! 

S.  G.  AV.  B. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

NEW  YORK  ART  LIFE. 

My  articles  on  Contemporary  Art  in  Europe,  the 
first  of  the  sort  that  had  appeared  in  an  American  maga- 
zine, and  their  subsequent  publication  in  a  handsome 
volumn,  met  with  sufficient  attention  in  our  commercial 
community  to  incline  the  Messrs.  Harper  to  seize  the  tide 
at  its  flood — one  must  do  that  way  in  America  or  be  left 
behind.  They  proposed  to  issue  a  series  of  articles  on 
American  Art,  describing  its  development  from  Colonial 
times,  the  same  to  be  illustrated  regardless  of  cost  and 
afterwards  to  be  put  together  in  a  book  for  the  holidays. 
They  offered  the  undertaking  to  me.  I  protested  that 
the  time  for  such  a  work  had  not  yet  arrived ;  that  I  did 
not  yet  feel  equal  to  treat  the  subject  properly,  and  that 
in  the  end  it  would  prove  injurious  to  my  position  as  an 
artist  to  criticize  my  fellow  artists,  aside  from  the  appear- 
ance of  presum.ption  it  implied.  They  replied  that  they 
were  bound  to  have  such  a  work  prepared  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, and  that  if  I  did  not  do  it  they  would  offer  it  to 
some  other  writer  less  sensitive  than  myself.  I  needed  the 
money,  I  did  not  wish  to  fall  out  of  favor  with  the  INIessrs. 
Harper,  who  had  always  treated  me  with  consideration  and 
to  whom  I  was  under  promise  not  to  write  for  the  rival  il- 

311 


lustrated  monthlies  while  writmg  for  their  house,  and  I 
hoped  that  the  artists  themselves  would  not  too  deeply  re- 
sent what  I  might  say,  as  I  have  always  aimed  to  avoid 
harshness  or  hypercriticism.  After  some  hesitation  I  de- 
cided, weakly  perhaps,  to  undertake  a  labor  that  resulted 
in  keeping  me  more  busy  for  several  years  than  I  have 
ever  been  before  or  since,  although  not  always  in  directions 
I  might  have  preferred,  if  at  liberty  to  choose. 

The  writing  of  these  articles  on  American  Art  was  the 
smallest  part  of  the  work.  I  had  to  visit  city  after  city 
looking  up  the  work  of  our  old  time  artists  in  private  or 
public  collections,  and  selecting  such  things  as  would  best 
serve  as  examples.  I  also  had  to  visit  the  studios  of  our 
living  artists  for  the  same  purpose,  and  then  have  careful 
photographs  taken  of  works  selected.  Of  course  in  this 
way  I  saw  a  good  part  of  the  product  of  our  art,  and  made 
the  acquaintance  of  many  of  our  first  citizens  and  of  our 
leading  artists.  There  was  also  much  investigation  to  be 
made  in  old  records,  and  a  vast  amount  of  correspon- 
dence, before  boiling  the  material  down,  into  the  compact- 
ness required  by  magazine  articles.  As  soon  as  it  became 
known  that  I  was  preparing  such  a  work  I  had  numerous 
applications  from  artists  in  various  quarters  to  have  their 
names  included,  in  some  cases  offering  to  pay  for  the  en- 
graving of  their  pictures.  These  were  the  individuals, 
generally,  that  we  did  not  want,  and  it  was  embarrassing  to 
have  to  decline  their  applications.  Doubtless  some  worthy 
names  slipped  my  attention  in  so  large  a  country,  and  in 
any  case  it  was  very  trying  and  mortifying  to  me  to  be 
able  to  devote  only  a  paragraph  or  two  or  three  lines  to 
deserving  artists.  In  writing  about  European  artists  for 
the  American  public  this  was  of  unimportance  to  me,  but  it 


312 


was  quite  another  affair,  when  treating  of  American  ar- 
tists, as  I  eventually  found  to  my  cost.  The  Harpers  gave 
the  greatest  attention  to  the  preparation  of  the  engrav- 
ings. Some  of  them  were  engraved  repeatedly  to  achieve 
complete  satisfaction.  But  I  did  not  quite  approve  the  aim 
sought  with  some  of  the  cuts,  which  was  to  give  a 
realistic  impression  of  the  style,  the  very  brush  marks,  of 
the  works  of  our  more  recent  painters,  and  to  suggest,  as 
they  said,  the  color.  This  idea  of  suggesting  color  in  a 
black  and  white  engraving  is  to  me  absurd,  a  sheer  affec- 
tation. A  vivid  fancy  can  perhaps  imagine  it  sees  the 
tints  of  a  sunset  or  grey  landscape  in  black  and  white, 
but  after  all  it  is  the  form  and  the  light  and  shade  alone, 
that  the  graver  can  or  should  attempt  to  reproduce.  But 
the  editor  and  engravers  of  Harpers  deserve  credit  for 
conscientiously  trying  to  achieve  the  highest  possible  re- 
sults in  the  illustrations  of  this  work,  which,  barring  the 
above  exceptions,  were  truly  admirable.  The  crudeness 
of  the  public  art  tastes  of  the  period  were  shown  in  some 
of  the  letters  received  by  the  editor.  Some  objected  to  the 
immorality  of  reproducing  the  nude,  as  represented  by 
such  chaste  works  as  Powers'  Eve.  One  writer,  noticing  a 
slight  defect  in  the  wood,  criticised  the  engraver  for  put- 
ting a  pimple  on  the  thigh  of  a  nymph ! 

These  repeated  publications  on  art  subjects  brought 
me  numerous  unsolicited  commissions  for  articles  and 
books  and  I  had  my  hands  full  of  work.  I  had  numerous 
articles  to  write  for  that  stately  art  magazine,  The 
American  Art  Revieic,  edited  by  INIr.  S.  R.  Kochler,  a 
periodical  for  which  our  public  was  still  hardly  ripe,  and  it 
lived  only  two  or  three  years.  The  Iconographic  Encylo- 
paedia  asked  me  to  prepare  the  history  of  painting  in  the 


313 


later  Renaissance.  At  the  kind  suggestion  of  Mr.  R.  H. 
Stoddard,  the  poet  and  literary  editor  of  the  Mail  and 
Express,  to  whose  genial  friendship  I  owe  repeated 
courtesies,  I  was  offered  the  Art  Editorship  of  that  paper. 
At  the  same  time  the  publishers  of  the  Literary  Table 
asked  me  to  edit  their  Art  Department,  and  in  due  course, 
the  Magazine  of  Art  decided  to  add  an  American  de- 
partment to  that  monthly  and  the  editorship  was  at  my 
disposal.  In  the  meantime  I  was  painting,  exhibiting  and 
selling  pictures  at  the  Academy  and  at  numerous  exhibi- 
tions elsewhere,  and  writing  the  books  already  mentioned 
together  with  various  side  articles.  If  it  be  asked  how  I 
managed  to  do  all  this  I  can  say  that  I  had  valuable  help  in 
cultivated  assistants  who  were  able  to  visit  the  studios  for 
me  or  to  write  and  copy  intelligently  at  my  dictation.  On 
a  few  occasions  I  wrote  two  articles  at  once,  dictating  one 
to  my  amanuensis,  while  I  myself  was  writing  another.  At 
other  times,  after  a  painting  was  advanced  beyond  the 
composition,  I  would  paint  and  dictate  at  the  same  time.  I 
also  had  an  inestimable  and  un-American  faculty  of 
knowing  how  to  rest.  When  I  reached  a  certain  point  in 
my  work  I  would  not  only  lay  the  pen  or  brush  aside  but 
also  put  the  whole  subject  practically  out  of  mind,  and  go 
down  to  the  wharves  and  look  at  the  ships  and  yachts ;  or 
I  would  stroll  over  to  the  Club  and  with  a  cigar  and  in 
easy  chat  with  a  friend  or  two,  give  my  thoughts  entire 
diversion  and  repose.  Then  again,  I  never  began  work 
until  I  was  ready,  no  matter  what  time  of  the  day.  In  that 
way  everything  was  assorted  in  my  mind;  I  knew  just 
what  I  wanted  to  write  or  paint,  and  rarely  had  to  do  it 
over.  I  also  made  it  a  habit  to  eat  and  drink  something 
before  going  to  bed,  in  this  way  insuring  a  sound,  un- 


314 


broken  sleep,  and  waking  thoroughly  refreshed.  This  has 
been  my  habit  for  thirty-five  years.  Of  course  I  should 
have  preferred  to  work  at  more  leisure;  but  perhaps  I 
might  have  produced  no  better  results ;  some  work  best 
under  pressure.  I  realized  that  I  must  make  hay  while  the 
sun  shone;  "work  while  the  boom  is  on,"  my  friends  said; 
and  I  added  myself,  "It  does  not  last  long  in  this  rapid  age 
and  country." 

A  friend  in  Detroit  had  suggested  my  name  to  the 
superintendent  of  the  Board  of  Education  of  the  State 
of  Michigan,  who  offered  me  the  chair  of  literature  and 
history  in  the  State  Normal  School,  with  the  reversion 
to  the  presidency,  when  vacant.  He  came  on  to  see  me 
about  it,  and  I  gave  the  matter  serious  consideration ;  but 
finally  decided  against  accepting  so  flattering  an  invitation 
for  the  same  reasons  that  I  had  declined  one  or  two  posi- 
tions already.  I  was  of  too  independent  a  nature  to  be 
willing  to  promise  to  stay  permanently ;  but  not  to  do  so 
would  be  unfair  to  the  institution.  I  realized  that  my 
tastes  were  too  cosmopolitan  to  allow  me  to  settle  definite- 
ly at  one  post,  unless  the  forms  of  energy  were  entirely  in 
harmony  with  my  disposition. 

The  results  that  I  had  apprehended  from  writing  Art 
in  America,  began  to  become  apparent  in  due  time.  My 
books  had  given  me  wider  reputation  than  I  could  have 
hoped  for,  as  an  artist  in  America,  unless  an  Inness  or  a 
Turner,  but  they  had  injured  my  position  as  an  artist; 
for  artists,  as  a  rule,  are  jealous  and  suspicious  of  one 
of  their  calling  who  does  not  devote  himself  wholly  to  art. 
One  must  be  a  Da  Vinci  to  brave  and  live  down  this  senti- 
ment. Fromentin,  tried  deliberately  to  do  so,  but  barely 
succeeded  in  the  attempt.     The  artists  continued  to  hang 


315 


my  paintings  at  the  Academy,  occasionally  even  on  the 
line,  but  I  was  soon  made  to  feel,  (and  have  been  made  to 
feel  more  and  more  in  later  years,)  that  if  one  both  paints 
and  writes  and  lectures  on  Art,  many  artists  will  insist 
that  he  shall  be  considered  an  "art-critic"  and  not  a  pro- 
fessional painter.  This  is  unjust,  but  the  average  artist 
is  not  broad-minded,  however  keen  his  faculties.  I  was 
asked  if  I  was  willing  to  have  my  name  put  up  for  election 
as  associate  member  of  the  National  Academy.  I  replied 
that  I  was  willing  provided  it  could  be  previously  ascer- 
tained that  there  was  a  very  sure  chance  of  my  election. 
A  canvass  of  the  members  developed  a  very  bitter  feeling 
on  the  part  of  two  or  three  who  felt  that  I  had  not  as- 
signed them  the  highest  places  in  the  niches  of  fame,  and 
they  were  bound  to  defeat  my  election.  Therefore  I  de- 
clined to  have  my  name  put  forward.  In  such  a  case  the 
virulent  pertinacity  of  one  foe  is  greater  than  the  efforts 
of  ten  friends. 

Shortly  before  this  incident  I  was  asked  by  the  Wide 
Awake,  a  youth's  magazine  of  Boston,  to  prepare  a 
dozen  short  biographical  articles  about  American  artists, 
to  appear  monthly  at  my  own  terms,  and  with  illustra- 
tions. After  the  series  had  begun,  the  order  was  duplicat- 
ed, making  twenty-four  articles  in  all.  It  seems  that  D. 
Lothrop  &  Co.  had  been  led  to  make  the  offer  as  soon  as 
they  saw  that  I  was  preparing  articles  for  Harpers  on 
American  Art;  and  without  consulting  me  as  to  my  own 
Interests,  they  put  the  first  twelve  articles  in  book  form 
and  announced  them  for  the  Holidays  at  the  same  time 
that  the  Harpers  announced  my  Art  in  America. 
Legally  Lothrop  had  a  right  to  do  this,  because  In  my  in- 
nocence, I  had  not  protected  myself.     But  morally  they 


316 


were  not  justified.  Tliey  allowed  me  no  copyright  or 
profits  on  their  book,  and  as  it  was  every  way  a  cheaper 
book  than  the  other,  and  sold  for  half  the  price,  many 
bought  them  in  preference  to  the  other,  on  which  I  had  a 
copyright  and  profits.  As  it  turned  out  the  Harper's  and 
I,  found  our  expected  profits  on  Art  in  America  cut 
down  at  least  half  by  this  unauthorized  trick.  It 
hurt  me  also  with  the  Harper's  at  first,  as  I  had  diffi- 
culty in  making  them  understand  that  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it  but  was  equally  a  sufferer  with  themselves.  It 
is  a  very  hard  thing  to  say,  the  fact  remains  that  in  all 
my  experience  with  editors  and  publishers  I  have  suffered 
proportionally  far  more,  from  pious  publishers  and  editors, 
whether  clergymen  or  laymen,  than  from  the  unregenerate. 
I  have  no  comment  to  make,  the  facts  speak  for  themselves, 
and  professional  Christians  can  draw  their  own  inferences. 
I  could  recall  several  forcible  instances  bearing  out  this 
statement. 

One  of  these  biographical  articles  for  Wide  Arvake 
was  about  the  well  known  illustrator  Charles  S.  Relnhart ; 
and  in  preparing  this  article  I  came  across  another  ex- 
ample of  the  way  my  Art  in  America  had  prejudiced 
me  among  the  artists.  He  had  agreed  to  furnish  me  with 
a  photograph  of  himself  and  one  or  two  illustrations  to 
be  engraved  with  the  article.  After  I  had  written  it,  I 
dropped  him  a  line  asking  when  the  pictures  would  be 
ready.  Some  days  passed  without  a  reply,  and  I  was 
about  to  send  him  again,  when  I  met  him  on  the  steps  of 
the  Academy.  Relnhart  was  a  tall,  handsome,  finely  built 
man,  who  might  have  posed  for  an  Apollo.  But  when  he 
saw  me  on  this  occasion  the  expression  of  his  face  instant- 
ly changed  to  such  a  degree  that  he  might  at  that  moment 


317 


have  posed  for  Milton's  Satan  in  Hell.  Paying  no  at- 
tention to  this  changed  mood,  although  on  my  guard,  as 
something  was  evidently  brewing,  I  said,  "Mr.  Reinhart, 
will  you  kindly  tell  me  when  I  can  have  those  pictures,  as 
I  am  in  some  haste  for  them." 

He  glared  at  me  a  moment  like  an  insane  man,  and  then 
exclaimed,  "I  have  a  good  mind  to  knock  you  down !" 

"Why,  I  should  like  to  know  what  is  the  meaning  of 
this?" 

"The  meaning  of  it  is,  that  you  lied  about  me  in  your 
book  and  I  am  going  to  knock  you  down." 

I  stood  and  looked  at  him,  and  then  replied,  "I  think 
I  am  entitled  to  know  what  you  have  against  me,  but  in 
the  mean  time  I  am  waiting  for  you  to  go  ahead."  An- 
other pause.  "I  thought  you  wanted  to  knock  me  down ; 
you'll  never  have  a  better  chance." 

He  advanced  a  step  and  raised  his  clenched  fist ;  then 
dropped  it ;  his  face  flushed,  and  he  trembled  with  ex- 
citement. 

"Well.?" 

"The  amount  of  it  is  that  you  say  in  your  book  that 
Abbey  is  a  greater  artist  than  I  am.  Everyone  knows  that 
that  is  not  true.  We  studied  together;  he's  had  a  lot  of 
luck,  but  you  can  ask  anybody  and  they'll  tell  you  that 
I  draw  more  carefully  than  he,  and  hold  my  own  with  him 
as  an  all-around  artist;  and  you,  you  have  given  him  the 
precedence  above  me!" 

"Mr.  Reinhart,"  said  I,  "you  flatter  me  by  implying 
that  anything  I  can  say  can  have  such  weight.  I  am 
fallible  like  all  men ;  I  was  limited  in  the  space  allowed  me ; 
it  was  my  wish  to  be  fair  to  all;  I  may  unintentionally 
have  said  less  about  your  talents  than  they  deserve,  but 


318 


that  I  have  a  high  opinion  of  them,  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  I  have  asked  the  favor  of  including  you  in  my  selec- 
tion of  twenty-four  artists  to  be  written  up  in  Wide 
Awake.  Mr  article  about  you  is  written  and  they  are 
waiting  for  it ;  when  can  I  have  the  illustrations  ?" 

"I  can't  let  you  have  them.  What  you  say  may  be  so, 
but  I  don't  like  your  way  of  speaking  of  me  as  an  artist, 
and  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  article." 

"Do  as  you  please  about  it ;  but  I  considered  you  as  a 
man  of  honor  on  whose  word  I  could  depend." 

He  gave  me  a  parting  look  of  hate,  and  left  me.  But 
my  last  words  rankled  in  his  mind,  and  three  hours  later 
a  messenger  rapped  at  ni}'  door  and  brought  me  ]Mr.  Rein- 
hart's  illustrations.  They  were  accompanied  by  a  brief, 
civil  note,  expressing  a  wish  that  I  should  suffer  no  incon- 
venience in  the  matter.  Reinhart  was  a  man  of  very  genu- 
ine artistic  merit,  but  it  was  the  merit  of  talent,  supple- 
mented by  earnest  effort  rather  than  of  genius.  Abbey 
may  justly  claim  to  a  share  of  genius  although  his  source 
of  inspiration  is  neither  copious  nor  deep.  The  American 
pictorial  artists  of  great  genius  are  still  for  the  most  part 
in  passe  rather  than  in  esse,  sensational,  rather  sugges- 
sively  creative,  excepting  in  the  field  of  landscape.  Let 
us  hope  the  day  of  their  coming  is  near,  the  day  when 
American  art  shall  shine  forth  in  native  and  unsurpassed 
splendor,  with  the  vast  reserve  indicated  by  the  masters 
of  the  old  world. 

Another  artist  who  was  odd  but  in  altogether  a  dif- 
ferent way  was  Louis  Lang,  a  native  of  Bavaria,  who 
came  early  to  this  country.  He  was  short  and  squat,  and 
when  I  knew  him  wore  a  brown  wig  and  had  his  beard 
dyed  of  the  same  color.     He  was  thrifty  and  hence,  with- 


319 


21 


out  being  much  of  a  painter,  although  he  had  been  elected 
Academician,  had  managed  to  lay  by  a  snug  sum  which 
kept  him  very  comfortably  after  he  was  too  old  to  do  much 
with  the  brush.  Lang  was  born  a  Catholic.  But  he  soon 
left  that  faith  and  always  thereafter  was  a  liberal  in  his 
views.  Whether  he  had  spiritual  consolation  at  the  end 
I  know  not,  but  he  told  me  at  seventy  that  he  had  confess- 
ed only  once  in  his  life ;  that  was  when  he  was  eight  years 
old.  He  was  told  that  he  must  confess  his  sins  to  a  priest. 
Ignorant  of  what  would  be  required  of  him  he  looked  into 
a  book  he  found  lying  about,  containing  every  variety  of 
questions  applicable  to  different  ages,  sexes,  and  con- 
ditions. He  then  frankly  confessed  to  having  committed, 
murder,  theft,  adultery  and  other  crimes.  "What  sort  of 
a  boy  is  this  Louis  .P"  inquired  the  priest  of  the  boy's 
teacher ;  "he  has  confessed  to  every  iniquity ;  he  is  either 
a  great  rogue  or  a  great  fool."  Lang  said  he  never  con- 
fessed after  that,  except  to  the  ladies. 

William  H.  Beard,  who  has  recently  passed  away,  was 
one  of  the  artists  whom  I  knew  well  in  those  days.  He 
would  have  been  a  noteworthy  character  in  New  York  even 
if  he  had  not  been  a  genius  in  his  special  line  of  art,  on 
account  of  his  personal  appearance.  No  one  who  has  seen 
his  familiar  figure  going  down  Sixth  Avenue  to  his  studio 
in  the  morning  would  ever  forget  him.  He  stood  over  six 
feet  high  and  was  massively  built ;  he  had  a  grey  mustache 
and  imperial,  his  blue  eyes  sparkled  keenly  as  gems  with 
sharp  observation  and  good  humor  under  shaggy  grey 
eyebrows,  and  his  florid  features  were  wi'eathed  by  the 
great  wave  of  white  locks  hanging  to  his  shoulders.  A 
certain  indescribable  romantic  picturesqueness  was  im- 
parted   to   his    figure   and   completed   the   time   effect   by 


320 


the  slouch  hat  and  Spanish  cloak  he  wore.  The  sight  of 
him  carried  one  back  to  Florence  and  Rome.  Unlike  many 
humorists,  Beard  enjoyed  his  jokes  audibly  and  supple- 
mented them  with  a  rich,  mellow  chuckle.  Towards  the 
end  of  his  life  he  lost  this  merry  laugh,  however;  he  be- 
came cynical  and  pessimistic,  and  the  pleasure  I  had  en- 
joyed in  his  inimitable  society  turned  to  pain.  Whether 
Beard  was  a  great  painter  as  well  as  humorist  it  would  be 
hazardous  to  assert  in  these  days  when  new  foreign  theor- 
ies and  methods  are  cried  up  in  our  studios  as  the  true 
ones  to  follow.  Granting  that  Beard's  technical  ability 
was,  according  to  his  lights,  inferior  to  his  knowledge  of 
the  true  inwardness  of  animals  and  men,  he  was  yet  a 
genius  who  deserved  well  of  his  country.  It  is  true  that 
he  had  distinct  appreciation  and  vogue  at  one  time,  but 
it  was  his  misfortune  to  outlive  his  success,  to  find  himself 
left  behind  and  forgotten,  as  happens  to  many  in  our 
volatile  republic.  What  was  worse,  unlike  some,  who  have 
means  on  which  to  retire  and  live  in  dignified  seclusion 
under  such  circumstances,  he  was  left  entirely  dependent 
on  his  brush  when  his  brush  no  longer  availed  to  keep 
the  wolf  from  the  door.  Poor  Beard  had  one  consolation, 
however ;  he  could  not  reproach  himself  with  having  wasted 
his  substance  in  riotous  living,  like  some  artists  and  au- 
thors in  distress.  Other  traits  he  had  also,  but  he  had  al- 
ways his  head  high  and  preserved  his  integrity  to  the 
last. 

Altogether  different  in  character  and  circumstances  was 
another  of  the  longtime  denizens  of  the  Famous  Tenth 
Street  Studio  Rookery.  I  refer  to  Frederick  E.  Church. 
He  was  well  formed  but  slight;  his  features  were  delicate, 
refined  and  spirituelle  almost  like  a  woman's;  his  manner 


321 


was  quiet  and  gentle,  that  of  a  dilettante  and  a  scholar 
born  to  a  life  of  ease,  calm  retirement  and  aristocratic 
culture.  But  what  he  achieved,  showed  that  he  had  force 
of  character  as  w^ell  as  brains,  and  that  the  competence 
he  had  always  enjoyed  had  not  hindered  him  from  follow- 
ing the  dictates  of  his  praiseworthy  ambition.  It  had  prob- 
ably made  him  selfish;  it  is  not  likely  that  his  less  fortu- 
nate brother  artist  found  in  him  one  so  likely  to  aid  them 
in  their  troubles  as  those  who  had  had  their  turn  of 
struggle  and  suffering;  his  virtues  were  negative  rather 
than  positive.  I  understand  that  he  inherited  property ; 
perhaps  his  marriage  was  also  fortunate  in  this  respect; 
and  probably,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three  of  our 
sculptors,  no  American  artists  have  earned  so  much 
money  out  of  their  art,  as  Church.  The  prices  he  received 
were  enormous.  I  remember  an  uncle  of  mine  gave  him 
$1,000  for  a  little  sunset,  about  a  foot  square.  Some  of 
his  larger  paintings  sold  for  even  more  proportionally. 
He  had  an  elegant  manorial  country  seat,  at  Hudson, 
where  I  visited  him  once  with  my  family.  It  stood  on  the 
brow  of  a  steep  slope  commanding  one  of  the  noblest 
prospects  in  the  lands.  Within,  it  was  planned  and  decor- 
ated partly  in  mediaeval,  partly  in  Oriental  style,  attrac- 
tive as  an  artist  of  Church's  wealth  and  taste  would  be 
likely  to  make  it.  In  his  last  years  he  suffered  acutely 
from  rheumatism  and  could  not  use  a  brush ;  but  he  had 
his  wealth  to  fall  back  on  and  could  pass  the  winters  in 
Mexico.  It  would  have  been  an  interesting  puzzle  in 
psychology  to  ask  these  two  men.  Beard  and  Church,  oc- 
cupying studios  under  the  same  roof,  whether  they  would 
have  been  willing  to  exchange  places  with  each  other,  the 


322 


one  hopelessly  poor  yet  with  health  to  pamt,  and  the  other 
hopelessly  disabled  in  health,  but  free  from  the  anxieties 
and  mortifications  of  impecuniousness.  There  are  some 
of  the  fanatical  followers  of  the  present  art-styles  who 
would  deny  Church's  ability  as  a  painter.  This  is  sheer 
nonsense,  narrow  mindedness,  ignorance  of  the  law  of  the 
intellectual  pendulum,  blindness  to  the  fact  that  the  time 
will  come  when  they  in  turn  wall  be  either  sneered  at  or 
forgotten.  It  may  be  that  some  of  Church's  canvasses 
were  thin  or  suggested  scene-painting;  the  latter  criticism 
is  not  necessarily  condemnatory;  for  some  modern  scene 
painting  is  very  effective  and  could  only  be  accomplished 
by  men  of  real  ability.  It  must  also  be  considered  that 
Church  and  some  of  his  colleagues  in  semi-topographical 
art,  came  at  the  time  they  were  needed,  and  did  much  to  in- 
terest our  people  in  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  our  pos- 
sessions. But  Church  was  more  than  that.  The  man  who 
painted  his  view  of  Niagara,  may  not  have  done  it  as  an 
Inness,  or  Constable,  or  Turner  or  Diaz  might  have  repre- 
sented it ;  nevertheless  that  is  a  great  picture  and  he  was  a 
great  painter,  one  of  the  greatest  poets  and  landscape 
artists  out  country  has  ever  produced,  and  that  painting 
will  live  and  be  admired  by  cultured  minds  long  after  some 
of  our  artists  of  today  are  forgotten. 

An  artist  whom  I  remember  with  the  greatest  respect 
w^as  Sanford  R.  Gifford,  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  so- 
called  Hudson  River  School.  I  have  never  met  with  a 
man  who  more  profoundly  impressed  me  with  the  full 
meaning  of  the  grand  old  word  "gentleman."  Tall,  erect, 
and  quiet  in  manner  like  a  soldier — I  believe  he  served  in 
the  army  during  our  Civil  war — he  added  to  it,  the  quiet 
dignity  of  a  Spanish  grandee.     His  features  were  Span- 


323 


ish,  and  his  pointed  iron  grey  beard  lent  force  to  the  re- 
semblance. He  looked  as  if  he  had  stepped  out  of  the  can- 
vas of  Velasquez.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  a  visit  he 
paid  me  at  my  studio.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  receiving  a 
nobleman  of  the  past.  And  yet  there  was  no  haughtiness 
or  self-assertion  in  him;  on  the  contrary  a  certain  air 
of  reserve  and  high  self-respect,  as  of  one  who  would 
scorn  to  do  aught  to  lower  himself  below  the  lofty  stand- 
ard of  true  manhood  that  he  had  raised  as  the  rule  of 
conduct.  In  criticising  my  painting,  also,  he  was  careful 
that  the  blame  should  not  pain  nor  the  praise  suggest 
flattery,  for  he  was  both  kind  hearted  and  sincere.  I  may 
add  here  that  refinement  was  then  more  commonly  a  trait 
of  our  native  born  and  native  educated  artists,  who  did  not 
go  abroad  until  their  character  had  been  formed,  than  it 
is  of  the  brilliant  school  now  presiding  over  our  fine  arts, 
whose  members  have  been  bred  among  the  rough,  brutal, 
half  civilized  influences  of  the  modern  art  schools  of 
France  and  Germany,  where  genius  may  abound,  but 
where  the  art  of  being  a  gentleman  with  all  that  the  word 
implies  is  too  often  considered  unimportant. 

I  am  led  at  this  point  in  my  reminiscences  to  speak  of 
William  Bradford,  who  made  a  reputation  as  a  painter  of 
icebergs.  He  was  a  good  man,  ethically  speaking,  de- 
vout in  the  New  England  sense,  and  conscientious  as  a 
Quaker  should  be.  But  as  an  artist  he  was  one  of  the 
queerest  I  ever  met  in  the  profession.  He  had  some  tal- 
ent and  considerable  ambition,  but  he  achieved  a  name 
disproportioned  to  his  art  ability  because  he  was  so  happy 
as  to  select  a  subject  for  painting  that  was  then  entirelv 
new  in  America,  although  I  think  that  the  superb  Danish 
marine  painters  began,  about  the  same  time  to  draw  in- 


324 


spiration  from  polar  life  and  scenery.  Bradford  began 
life  as  a  storekeeper  or  merchant  and  one  never  could 
be  with  him  long,  without  feeling  that  the  commercial  spir- 
it had  a  strong  hold  of  his  nature.  He  loved  beautiful 
objects,  broad  landscapes,  and  had  a  love  for  adventure, 
but  his  conversation  always  turned  to  the  cost  and  value 
of  things,  the  sharp  bargains  he  had  driven,  and  the  like. 
It  would  not  be  fair  to  criticize  his  paintings,  as  one  would 
those  of  one  who  had  enjoyed  early  advantages  for  art 
education.  The  wonder  is  that  he  did  so  well  under  the 
circumstances.  Another  wonder  is  that,  having  advanced 
so  far,  he  was  never  able  to  acquire  a  sense  of  proportion 
and  perspective.  His  ships  were  rarely  placed  so  as  to 
look  their  true  size.  They  were  put  at  random  apparently, 
without  regard  to  the  horizon  line  or  their  relation  to 
other  objects  in  the  picture,  and  hence  a  vessel  of  several 
hundred  tons,  would  look  like  a  toyboat  and  vice  versa — 
much  the  same  might  be  said  of  his  icebergs. 

Poor  Launt  Thompson  is  one  of  the  New  York  artists 
whom  I  remember  with  the  keenest  interest  and  sympathy. 
Of  his  art  I  do  not  need  to  speak.  His  name  will  long  be 
remembered,  I  hope,  in  this  country  as  of  one  who  had  a 
genius  approached  by  very  few  of  our  scuptors  up  to 
that  time,  and  whose  portrait  busts  have  been  unsurpassed 
in  American  plastic  art.  When  sober  he  was  a  charming 
companion,  intelligent,  amiable  and  agreeable.  But  when 
he  at  last  yielded  to  the  habits  of  a  dypsomaniac  his  sprees 
became  frequent  and  more  violent.  I  am  led  to  speak  of 
this,  because  of  all  men  whom  I  have  known  who  were  intem- 
perate his  form  of  that  disease  was  the  most  remarkable. 
There  was  no  thickening  of  the  voice,  no  loss  of  speech, 
no  weakness  of  the  legs  or  reeling  such  as  one  commonly 


325 


sees  with  drunkards.  His  language  was  apparently  ra- 
tional, and  one  who  did  not  know  him  well  and  was  not 
familiar  with  his  mind  and  manners  would  notice  noth- 
ing except,  perhaps,  that  he  seemed  at  times  abnormally 
excited.  The  first  time  I  saw  him  in  one  of  these  attacks 
he  suggested  that  we  dine  together  at  a  restaurant.  At 
such  times  I  would  try  to  escape  from  him,  anxious  to 
avoid  being  the  receptacle  of  some  information  he  gave. 
On  one  such  occasion  Thompson  repeated  an  altercation 
he  had  with  one  of  his  Italian  assistants  in  Florence,  and 
with  manual  force  tried  to  show  the  trick  by  which  he  got 
the  better  of  his  insolent  employee  and  could  have  killed 
him  if  the  man  had  not  asked  for  pardon.  It  was  done 
by  springing  behind  a  man  suddenly  thrusting  his  middle 
fingers  into  his  mouth  and,  by  the  purchase  thus  gained, 
pressing  the  thumbs  against  the  base  of  the  skull  and  for- 
cing the  victim  down  on  his  knees  with  the  intolerable  pain. 
*'Just  let  me  show  you,"  said  he  to  me.  At  the  word,  he 
got  behind  me  and  was  getting  his  fingers  in  my  mouth 
when  I  shook  myself  out  of  his  grasp,  and  left  the  room. 
He  later,  attempted  this  with  Edwin  Booth,  the  actor. 
Suspecting  nothing.  Booth  was  in  an  instant  entirely 
helpless  and  suffering  acute  pain.  His  cries  brought  the 
servants  to  his  aid. 

Apropos  of  these  art  anecdotes  I  may  repeat  here 
one  of  the  most  dramatic  that  ever  occurred  in  the  art 
circles  of  New  York,  although  it  did  not  happen  until 
several  years  later  and  after  my  return  from  Persia.  It 
was  during  the  visit  of  Vereschagin  to  America  with  the 
collection  of  large  sensational  paintings  of  war  and  Orient- 
al subjects  that  were  exhibited  in  several  of  our  great 
cities.     The  subject  of  one  of  these  paintings,  by  the  way, 


326 


••The  shooting  of  prisoners  from  the  guns  in  the  East  In- 
dian Mutiny,"  seemed  to  me  exceedingly  ill  chosen  for 
selection  by  a  Russian  artist.  Of  course  it  was  done  in 
order  to  bring  discredit  on  the  English  and  to  hold  them 
up  as  the  representatively  cruel  people  of  modern  times. 
It  really  indicated  on  the  contrary  that  the  artist  de- 
liberately ignored  the  horrors  Russia  had  perpetrated  or 
that  he  inferred  that  the  world  was  ignorant  of  them,  in 
which  latter  supposition  he  would  have  been  correct,  for 
few  people  know  much  of  history  besides  their  own,  and 
not  much  of  that.  In  America  likewise  the  history  and 
character  of  Russia  are  less  known  and  understood  than 
anywhere  else,  and  her  professions  are  accepted  on  their 
face  value. 

Vereschagin,  it  will  be  remembered,  is  the  artist  who  it 
is  reported,  in  the  last  Russo-Turkish  war,  proposed  to 
witness  the  execution  of  two  Turkish  prisoners,  and  with 
brush  and  palette  in  hand,  intended  to  produce  a  realistic 
study  of  their  dying  agonies.  When  their  lives  were 
spared  for  a  milder  sentence,  he  protested  with  indigna- 
tion against  the  change,  and  urged  that  the  original 
sentence  be  carried  out,  as  he  needed  the  bloody  spectacle 
to  assist  him  in  furthering  his  art-designs.  As  every  one 
knows,  he  at  last  went  down  with  the  ill-fated  battleshii) 
Petropavlosli,  off  Port  Arthur,  in  the  Japanese  war,  a  fit- 
ting end  to  the  career  of  an  artist  whose  brush  was  dipped 
in  blood. 

Like  many  other  distinguished  foreigners  who  visit  New 
York,  Mr.  Vereschagin  received  an  invitation  to  the 
monthly  meeting  of  the  Century  Club.  This  was  especially 
apropos  in  his  case,  as  that  club  is  at  least  ostensibly  an 
art-association,  and  includes  in  its  membership  many  of  the 


327 


most  distinguished  metropolitan  artists.  I  did  not  arrive 
until  late  that  evening.  When  I  entered  the  gallery,  where, 
as  usual  at  these  meetings,  an  exhibition  of  paintings  by 
the  members  was  hung  on  the  walls,  I  instantly  obs  irveJ. 
that  something  unusual  was  occurring.  On  one  side 
fifteen  or  twenty  artists  were  standing  in  a  group,  with  a 
half  scared,  half  surprised  or  indignant  look  on  their  faces, 
and  by  their  manner  evidently  baffled  and  discomforted. 
On  the  other  side  stood  (farther  ahead)  Stedman,  the 
poet,  undertaking  to  sustain  an  argument,  but  not  quite 
with  his  customary  aggressiveness  and  evidence  of  power. 
Between  them,  in  a  space  by  himself,  stood  Vereschagin,  a 
great  picturesque  Moscovite,  shaking  his  white  locks  and 
beard,  and  gesticulating  violently,  defiant,  too,  like  a 
buffalo  confronting  a  flock  of  wolves.  In  the  background, 
lay-members  of  the  club  looked  on.  It  was  a  magnificent 
tableau  composed  of  eminent  men  representing  various 
passions.  I  took  in  the  situation  in  a  glance.  Vereschagin, 
although  the  guest  of  the  club,  had  been  attacking  Ameri- 
can art,  with  brutal  and  contemptuous  frankness.  The 
artists  present,  had  successively  tried  to  champion  their 
side  of  the  question,  but  labored  under  the  disadvantage 
of  having  pictures  of  their  own  in  the  gallery.  Vereschagin 
had  silenced  them  all,  though  unconvinced,  and  Sted- 
man, able  on  many  subjects,  had  then  gallantly  come  to 
the  rescue  of  the  American  cause,  and  he  was  a  man  to 
quail  before  his  adversary.  But  he  was  somewhat  stag- 
gered on  this  occasion,  not  being  an  artist,  and  hence  un- 
able to  discuss  the  subject  from  a  professional  point  of 
view. 

The  situation  was  of  a  nature  to  fire  my  blood.     The 
subject  at  issue  was  on  ground  with  which  I  was  reason- 


328 


ably  familiar,  and  which  I  could  discuss  without  embar- 
rassment, as  I  had  no  painting  there,  on  that  evening.  I 
also  understood  perfectly  well  how  foreigners  should  be 
treated  when  comporting  themselves  like  this  Russian 
painter,  Europeans  are  so  accustomed  to  see  Americans 
abroad  either  displaying  a  childish  national  vanity  or 
humiliating  toadyism  to  all  that  is  foreign,  that  when 
they  meet  with  one  who  is  quiet  and  modest  but  at  the 
same  time  unflinchingly  bold  in  resenting  attacks  on 
America,  they  are  completely  taken  aback.  To  use  a 
vulgar  colloquialism,  the  true  way  to  treat  foreigners  when 
they  "sass"  us,  is  to  "sass"  back,  and  to  strike  from  the 
shoulder;  that  and  that  alone  brings  them  to  their  senses. 
In  nine  times  out  of  ten  it  works  to  a  charm. 

As  I  entered  the  gallery,  Vereschagin,  with  a  tone  of 
authority  was  reiterating  in  fluent  English,  his  con- 
demnation of  the  American  art,  as  being  thus  far  without 
successful  achievement,  and  offering  no  promise  of  future 
improvement.  There  was  some  ground  perhaps,  for  his 
criticisms,  but  this  was  not  the  time  nor  the  place  to 
express  them.  "But  surely  you  must  admit,"  said  Sted- 
man  deprecatingly,  "that  we  have  produced  some  fine 
portrait  and  landscape  painters,  quite  enough  to  make 
us  hope  that  a  great  national  school  has  begun."  "Par- 
don me,  I  cannot  agn?e  with  you,"  replied  the  Russian, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  and  turning  out  the  palms  of 
his  hands,  as  if  he  would  add,  "I,  Vereschagin,  the  Russian, 
have  said  it,  is  it  not  enough?" 

Boiling  with  rage,  having  fought  diplomatic  battles 
with  Russians  before,  I  seized  the  interval  when  Stedman, 
nonplussed,  was  looking  for  an  answer,  stepped  forward, 
and  said,  "Mr.  Vereschagin,  allow  me  to  suggest  that  it 


329 


appears  to  me  either  you  have  seen  very  Kttle  of  Ameri- 
can art,  or  that,  like  many  Europeans,  you  come  here 
prejudiced  and  determined  not  to  do  us  justice." 

"I  must  say  that  I  have  seen  few  good  pictures  here 
by  your  artists,  and  therefore  it  is,  that  I  declare  that 
there  is  no  promise  that  you  will  have  a  good  national  art; 
in  other  things  I  admit  you  have  made  some  progress." 

"Admitting  the  correctness  of  your  opinion  about  what 
our  artists  have  already  done,  which  I  only  admit  for 
argument's  sake,  still  what  you  say  shows  that  you  have 
not  looked  at  the  subject  philosophically.  You  have  not 
applied  to  it  the  law  of  evolution ;  the  law  of  art-develop- 
ment is  a  question  of  slow  growth  and  is  based  on  certain 
conditions.  Even  in  Russia,  where  you  try  the  forcing 
process,  and  try  to  develop  civilization  by  authority  and 
ukase,  you  have  not  yet  been  able  to  produce  a  great 
art." 

"Well,  well,  if  you  feel  so  hopeful  about  your  art, 
zvhen  do  you  expect  it?" 

"We  have  been  busy  for  three  centuries  trying  to  build 
up  a  nation ;  we  have  had  to  fight  savages,  to  fight  for  our 
liberty,  to  clear  a  continent,  to  lay  railwaj^s,  to  produce 
great  inventions,  to  assimilate  the  incoming  hordes  of 
Europe.  It  is  with  such  matters  that  the  brain  and 
effort  of  our  people  have  been  occupied.  It  is  remark- 
able that  we  have  done  as  well  as  we  have  in  the  pursuit  of 
art.  We  shall  do  far  better  in  due  time.  Art  must  be  spon- 
taneous. All  we  ask  is  time  in  order  to  equal  or  surpass 
the  art  of  Europe.  Art-pro7nise  is  already  quite  evident 
here." 

"This  sounds  all  right ;  but  it  is  too  indefinite ;  you  are 
vague ;  you  have  done  little  in  art,  and  yet  you  prophesy 


330 


a  great   art.      Come,   come,   when   will   it   be,   this   art   of 
yours?" 

"You,  in  Russia,  were  a  nation  before  America  was 
discovered ;  you  had  a  school  of  architecture  and  a  deco- 
rative art  that  were  both  creditable  before  Columbus  was 
born ;  and  yet  you  are  today  in  many  respects  far  behind 
the  rest  of  Christendom  in  many  points  that  are  con- 
sidered essential  to  a  high  civilization.  And  you  have 
not  yet  equalled  the  rest  of  Europe  in  the  fine  arts ;  but 
we  may  still  admit  that  Russia  has  accomplished  enough 
to  lead  us  to  think  that  she  gives  promise  of  doing  far 
better  in  the  course  of  ages." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  good  opinion  of  Russia ;  thank 
God,  she  is  able  to  take  care  of  herself;  she  needs  no 
advice";  waving  his  hand  disdainfully.  "But  my  question, 
why  do  you  not  answer  my  question?  When  do  you  ex- 
pect your  American  art  to  appear  above  the  horizon?" 

"I  am  not  in  the  councils  of  the  Infinite;  it  is  not  for 
me  to  name  the  day  and  hour  when  it  will  come  in  its 
splendor.  The  development  of  a  nation's  energies  is  not 
like  the  quick  growth  of  a  man.  It  is  a  matter  of  ages. 
But  I  insist  that  any  unprejudiced  person  looking  at 
some  of  our  civic  and  domestic  buildings,  some  of  our 
stained  glass  and  our  paintings,  would  admit  that  these 
signs  of  art  activity  are  cropping  out  so  abundantly  all 
over  the  country  as  to  indicate  that  the  aesthetic  genius 
is  rapidly  growing  here  in  harmony  with  its  environment, 
and  must  develop  a  great  and  an  original  art  even  earlier 
than  might  ordinarily  be  expected.  One  thing  is  certain, 
unless  you  unshackle  the  popular  mind  of  Russia,  and 
leave  it  more  free  to  develop  in  ever}'  direction,  we  Ameri- 


331 


cans  are  bound  to  have  our  schools  of  art  before  you  have 
yours,  and  possibly  a  greater  one." 

He  shook  his  head  impatiently,  and  exclaiming,  "I  can 
do  nothing  with  you !"  turned  suddenly  on  his  heel  and 
strode  to  the  corner  of  the  room  where  he  proceeded  to 
occupy  himself  busily  examining  one  of  the  paintings  he 
had  scorned.  I  seized  the  opportunity  to  go  into  the 
supper  room  and  get  a  dish  of  oysters  and  a  glass  of 
punch. 


332 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

MARRIAGE  AND  A  CRUISE. 

I  had  been  writing  for  the  Harpers  off  and  on  since 
1863.  After  1873  I  had  written  for  their  "monthly," 
more  illustrated  articles  probably  than  any  other  writer 
during  that  period.  They  had  also  published  three  books 
for  me,  in  handsome  style.  They  had  paid  me  as  liberally 
as  any  of  their  contributors,  and  I  had  no  cause  to  com- 
plain. Joseph  W.  Harper,  practically  the  head  of  the 
firm,  had  been  especially  friendly  to  me.  He  was  one  of 
tlie  class  of  publishers  that  authors  like  to  meet,  but 
who,  under  the  changed  conditions  of  the  publishing  busi- 
ness are  perhaps  less  common  now  than  formerly.  In 
terms,  the  publisher  of  today  would  hesitate  to  deny  that 
the  interests  of  author  and  publisher  are  interchange- 
able, and  that  each  is  essential  to  the  success  of  the  other. 
But  there  is  a  growing  tendency  to  assume  in  practice, 
that  the  publisher  is  the  capitalist,  while  the  author  is 
the  farmhand  who  gathers  the  cotton  or  the  grain  which 
the  capitalist  turns  into  usable  fabrics.  But  IMr.  Joseph 
W.  Harper  was  not  a  man  of  this  class.  To  him  the 
author  was  a  gentleman  and  an  equal,  and  the  relations 
between  us  were  rather  those  of  a  genial  acquaintance  and 
friendship  than  that  of  a  trade  pure  and  simple.     He  was 

833 


also  a  hon  garcon,  the  reverse  of  a  prig,  one  who  liked  to 
hear  or  tell  a  good  story,  and  he  enjoyed  a  glass  and  a 
cigar  with  his  authors  or  editors.  Withal  he  had  one 
of  the  best  business  heads  ever  seen  in  the  publishing 
business.  He  could  sec  at  a  glance  what  was  for  the 
best  interests  of  the  house,  and  had  the  true  executive 
ability  that  knows  how  to  select  one's  lieutenants  and  then 
leave  to  each  the  charge  of  the  details  of  his  department. 
But  the  time  had  come  when  Joe  Harper  was  about  to 
turn  over  his  position  to  others,  equally  diligent  per- 
haps, but  of  other  temperament  and  methods.  The  time 
had  come  also,  I  thought,  when  it  was  best  for  the  Harpers 
and  for  me  to  separate.  They  had  done  well  by  me,  and 
I  had  given  them  good,  honest  results  for  their  outlay.  But 
I  wanted  once  more  to  be  a  "free  lance,"  and,  having  taken 
my  time  "to  view  the  landscape  o'er,"  I  directed  my  steps 
towards  the  office  of  the  Century.  The  prospect  of  the 
renewal  of  the  international  cup  races  promised  a  revival 
of  interest  in  yachting,  and  timeliness  is  now-a-days  a 
supreme  factor  in  most  of  the  articles  accepted  by  the 
magazines.  But  there  was  another  point  to  consider, 
which  had  not  yet  received  much  attention  from  ^^achts- 
men  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic.  This  was  the  fact 
that  for  some  years  a  tendency  had  become  evident  to 
modify  the  English  and  American  types  by  borrowing 
from  each  other  models  both  as  to  hull  and  sail  plan. 
This  had  not  begun  to  be  as  apparent  as  it  is  now,  but  it 
was  sufficient  to  suggest  to  the  expert  observer  that  the 
yachts  of  the  two  nations  were  passing  through  an 
evolutionary  stage.  This  again  suggested  to  me  the  fact 
that  the  development  of  ships  from  one  age  to  another 
really  proceeds  according  to  a  distinct  law  of  evolution. 


334 


Hence  I  proposed  to  prepare  an  illustrated  paper  demon- 
strating this  law  as  applying  to  our  pleasure  craft,  and 
called  it  The  Evolution  of  the  American  Yacht.  So 
far  as  I  know  this  was  the  first  time  that  so  systematic 
an  attempt  had  been  made  to  define  and  illustrate  this 
theory.  The  Century  company  commissioned  me  to  pre- 
pare such  an  article  at  once  for  the  summer  numbers ; 
the  article  took  most  satisfactoril}'  with  all  who  are  in- 
terested in  aquatic  sports ;  and  Dixon  Kemp,  at  that  time 
the  leading  yacht  writer,  designer  and  expert  in  England, 
gave  my  article  a  column  and  a  half  small  print  review 
in  the  London  Field.  Among  other  points  I  foretold  that 
in  all  probability  the  English  and  American  types  would 
eventually  approximate  until  there  would  practically  be 
no  essential  difference  between  the  types,  and  hence,  by 
implication,  the  winning  in  cup  races  would  depend  on 
flukes  of  wind,  but  especially  on  the  crews  and  the 
men  in  command.  And  this  has  practically  happened.  To 
these  factors,  however,  we  must  add  that  lightness  of 
weight,  of  material,  is  one  of  the  essentials  now  considered, 
and  that  pitiful  aid  to  yacht  racing,  is  a  quality  that  any 
one  can  appl^'  without  regard  to  model.  In  my  opinion 
there  is  a  great  deal  more  of  what  might  be  called  "jockey- 
ing" in  construction,  and  less  of  the  merits  of  respective 
models  than  fairly  belongs  to  true  sportsmanship.  This 
article  was  immediately  followed  by  one  on  the  "American 
Steam  Yacht."  But  this,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I  wrote 
purely  for  the  money  and  repute  and  not  with  the  en- 
thusiastic tone  I  gave  to  the  first  article,  as  I  cared  little 
for  steam  or  any  other  auxiliary  craft,  and  a  paper  on 
that  subject  would  necessarih'  be  devoted  chiefly  to  pic- 


335 
22 


tures    and    descriptions    of    the    decorations    of   luxurious 
cabins  rather  than  to  model  and  seamanship. 

Still  I  got  some  enjoyment  out  of  preparing  the  sec- 
ond article  as  I  continued  my  wanderings  among  the  ship 
yards.  Indeed,  I  found  it  exceedingly  fascinating  to  pre- 
pare these  yachting  papers,  for,  although  pretty  thorough- 
ly informed  on  my  subject,  yet  it  was  essential  to  visit 
the  yards  of  many  yacht  builders,  and  to  examine  numei'- 
ous  yachts  to  confirm  my  theory  and  to  procure  sketches 
and  photographs.  I  did  this  thoroughly,  as  I  was  in  the 
habit  of  doing  all  articles  of  fact.  I  took  nothing  at  sec- 
ond hand  when  it  was  possible  for  me  to  see  into  a  subject 
personally.  This,  of  course,  was  a  very  expensive  proc- 
ess, and  generally  reduced  the  profits  of  my  articles  very 
materially;  I  know  it  is  not  a  method  always  practiced 
by  those  who  prepare  such  papers  for  our  periodicals. 
But  justice  to  myself,  to  my  subject,  and  to  my  pub- 
lishers made  it  impossible  for  me  to  practice  any  other 
rule.  I  remember  how  deeply  I  was  offended  once  by 
the  editor  and  proprietor  of  a  new  magazine  who,  when 
I  told  him  I  was  not  clearing  above  forty  percent  of  the 
price  he  was  to  pay  for  some  articles,  replied  in  a  sneering 
way,  "you  don't  really  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  travel 
about  to  get  up  the  facts  and  illustrations  in  these  ar- 
ticles? You  can  get  your  material  right  around  home  out 
of  the  libraries  and  art  dealers'  photos  and  from  the 
illustrated  papers."  "Mr.  Blank,"  I  replied,  "you  af- 
front me.  I  would  not  take  your  money  for  that  per- 
functory kind  of  work.  Even  if  I  did,  not  make  ten  cents 
on  a  dollar  out  of  an  article  I  had  engaged  to  prepare, 
I  should  get  my  material  at  first  hand."  Notwithstanding 
my  emphatic  language  he  looked  incredulous,  but  I  took 


336 


his  measure  on  the  spot,  and  was  careful  from  that  moment 
to  receive  my  money  when  I  delivered  my  article,  and 
very  wisely,  as  the  event  proved. 

Not  many  months  after  the  publication  of  these  yacht- 
ing articles  I  was  engaged  to  prepare  another  important 
paper  for  the  Century.  It  was  to  describe  a  cruise  in  a 
pilot  boat.  Mr.  ]M.  J.  Burns  was  to  accompany  me  to 
furnish  the  illustrations.  This  was  right,  both  because 
he  had  suggested  the  paper  inviting  me  to  accompany  him, 
and  because  he  was  much  stronger  than  I  in  drawing 
figure  subjects,  and  had  made  a  specialty  of  marine 
genre  in  which  he  has  few  superiors.  I  often  furnished 
sea  pieces  for  my  articles  from  my  own  pencil  and  brush, 
but  the  figures  were  always  subsidiary  parts  of  the  compo- 
sition. As  this  proved  one  of  my  most  interesting  and 
adventurous  cruises  and  the  most  varied  of  my  pilot 
trips,  I  shall  venture  to  give  some  account  of  it  in  these 
pages. 

It  was  a  lowering  morning  towards  the  end  of  February 
when  we  were  notified  that  the  Caprice,  schooner,  having 
just  returned  from  a  cruise  to  pick  up  her  pilots  and  lay 
in  a  fresh  stock  of  provisions,  was  about  to  put  to  sea 
again.  We  repaired  to  the  ofl^ce  of  the  pilot  commission- 
ers, a  low-studded,  elbow-shaped  room,  on  the  corner  of 
Burling  Slip.  A  massive  mahogany  desk  served  partly  to 
conceal  the  busy  secretary  of  the  board.  Between  two  win- 
dows stood  a  large  chronometer  clock,  including  in  its 
case  a  thermometer  and  barometer ;  ship  lockers  were 
ranged  about  the  walls ;  the  entire  apartment  suggested 
a  ship's  cabin,  this  impression  being  aided  by  the  masts 
visible  through  the  windows  and  the  creak  of  tackle 
blocks.    One  by  one  the  pilots  straggled  in,  and  discussed 


337 


the  weather,  which  was  pronounced  unusually  foreboding, 
with  the  mercury  below  twenty-nine,  and  a  most  sinster 
sky.  At  half  past  nine  we  started  for  the  Caprice,  which 
was  lying  at  a  neighboring  pier.  She  was  a  graceful  craft, 
ninety  feet  over  all,  twenty  feet  beam,  and  drawing  eleven 
feet.  Her  masts  were  beautiful  sticks,  without  knot  or 
crack,  as  behooved  a  vessel  employed  in  such  arduous  busi- 
ness. The  cabin  was  cosiness  itself.  Perhaps  we  appre- 
ciated it  more  keenly  because  of  the  gloom  and  chill  of 
the  external  atmosphere.  A  stove  was  firmly  fixed  in  the 
centre,  on  a  brightly  burnished  plate  of  brass  with  a 
raised  rim.  On  each  side  were  a  stateroom  and  two 
berths  that  could  be  closed  by  slides.  The  galley  and 
quarters  of  the  crew  were  amidships,  and  separated  from 
the  cabin  by  a  bulkhead.  The  crew  included  a  lascar 
cook,  a  cabin  boy,  four  able  seaman  preparing  to  become 
pilots  in  turn,  and  the  boatkeeper,  who  commanded  the 
schooner  and  took  her  home  after  all  the  pilots  had  been 
put  on  board  other  vessels.  But  before  that,  the  boat  was 
always  under  orders  of  the  pilot  whose  turn  it  was  to  board 
the  next  ship.  On  this  occasion  we  put  to  sea  with  six 
pilots,  the  full  complement  for  the  Caprice  being  seven. 
But  one  had  not  yet  reported. 

There  was  little  wind  as  we  shoved  off  and  made  sail, 
but  there  were  evidences  that  we  should  have  an  abun- 
dance before  long.  We  had  scarcely  cleared  Castle  Garden 
and  were  heading  for  the  Narrows  when  a  brig  was  per- 
ceived a  mile  ahead,  bound  out.  Making  sail  with  man-of- 
war  speed,  and  taking  advantage  of  every  whiffling  air, 
we  overhauled  her  and  put  a  pilot  aboard  to  take  her  past 
the  bar.  The  storm  signal  was  flying  at  Sandy  Hook, 
but  pilots  take  little  heed  of  such  warnings,  so  we  ran 


338 


out  to  sea  and  headed  south.  At  dark  we  double-reefed 
the  mainsail  and  hove  to.  We  were  now  in  the  water  where 
the  Caprice,  at  Christmas  tide  some  seasons  earlier,  had 
nearly  foundered  with  the  weight  of  ice  accumulating  on 
her  deck  in  a  northwest  gale.  The  following  winter  she 
lost  three  men  in  a  fearful  storm.  Two  years  later  she 
was  hove  down  in  a  squall  and  lost  a  man.  The  next  year 
she  was  tripped  and  filled  by  a  huge  wave,  and  abandoned 
by  crew,  who  took  to  the  boats  and  were  picked  up. 
Eventually  the  Caprice  was  unexpectedly  found,  water- 
logged, but  still  afloat,  and  towed  to  port.  All  these 
cheerful  items  I  read  in  the  log  book,  narrated  in  terse, 
uncouth  phrases,  and  giving  me  a  sample  of  the  possi- 
bilities before  us. 

Nothing  of  special  note  occurred  the  next  day,  except 
an  exciting  race  with  another  pilot  boat  to  pick  up  a 
ship.  The  weather  continued  foul,  and  the  third  night 
it  blew  half  a  gale  of  wind,  and  we  hove  to  under  close 
reefs  off  Barnegat.  About  ten  o'clock  the  lights  of  a 
steamer  heading  north  were  discovered  in  the  gloom. 

"Give  her  a  torch !"  was  the  order  that  followed  the 
discovery.  A  tub  containing  turpentine  was  brought  on 
deck;  a  ball  of  cotton  on  a  stick  was  dipped  into  it  and 
set  on  fire.  The  torch  was  held  up  to  show  the  large 
numbers  on  the  mainsail.  Nothing  more  spectacularly 
effective  could  be  imagined  than  this  vivid  contrast  of 
light  and  shade — the  dark  figure  in  uncouth  oil  suit  stand- 
ing on  the  reeling  deck  whirling  the  ball  of  fire  over  his 
head,  and  the  ruddy  sail  and  rigging  clear-cut  against  the 
impenetrable  blackness  of  the  night,  while  the  foam  seemed 
turned  into  blood  as  it  washed  on  board.  The  steamer 
passed  heedless   of  our   signal ;   all   hands   but   the   watch 


339 


turned  in  again.  On  the  following  morning  a  wild  spec- 
tacle presented  itself  when  I  went  on  deck.  The  gale, 
which  had  been  blowing  around  us  and  of  which  we  had 
had  a  taste,  suddenly  shifted  into  the  northwest  and 
shrieked  out  of  that  quarter  with  every  prospect  of  in- 
creasing. The  emerald  waves,  smitten  by  the  gleam  of 
the  sun  bursting  over  the  low  shores  of  New  Jersey  were 
rising  fast ;  and  as  there  was  no  prospect  of  picking  up  any 
ships  bound  in  this  wind,  it  was  decided  to  work  nearer 
the  land  into  smoother  water.  It  was  a  long,  hard  beat 
to  the  lee  of  Little  Egg  Harbor,  Avhere  we  trimmed  the 
sheets  and  under  very  small  canvas  ran  up  the  coast  to 
the  Highlands.  The  blasts  swept  off  the  land  with  great 
suddenness  and  violence,  burying  the  lee  rail  under  a  mass 
of  boiling  foam,  the  spray  smoking  under  the  bow  and 
tearing  off  to  leeward  in  sheets.  Flying  past  the  long 
line  of  resorts  that  fringe  the  Jersey  shore,  we  saw  at 
last  the  lofty  shaft  of  Sandy  Hook  loom  in  the  north,  and 
as  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun  suffused  land  and  sea  with 
almost  unearthly  splendor  we  headed  into  a  cove  and 
dropped  anchor  for  the  night.  Then  we  all  snatched  a 
much  needed  slumber  before  going  forth  once  more  to 
brave  the  wild  March  winds  on  the  grey  wastes  of  the  At- 
lantic. At  dawn  we  made  sail  and  stood  due  east  before  a 
strong  wind.  We  headed  straight  for  the  George's  Banks 
after  inbound  steamers.  To  secure  one  of  them  also  insures 
piloting  her  out  again.  For  such  chances  great  risks  were 
encountered.  After  two  or  three  disappointments  in  try- 
ing to  get  a  steamer  and  finding  that  they  had  been 
"boarded,"  i.  e.,  already  had  a  pilot,  we  caught  up  with 
plenty  of  weather  east  of  Nantucket  Light  Ship,  where 
we  met  the  full  brunt  of  the  ocean  waves  and  surges.    The 


340 


second  morning  after  our  second  departure  from  Sandy 
Hook  the  da}^  broke  high  over  a  savage  scene.  Enormous 
mounds  of  water,  churned  into  a  greyish  green  and  crested 
witli  plumes  of  foam,  swelled  up  against  the  sk}^,  and 
tossed  the  little  Caprice  like  an  eggshell.  The  gale  in- 
creasing with  great  fury,  we  hove  to  under  trysails,  a 
spread  of  canvas  so  moderate  that,  as  they  say  at  sea, 
we  were  under  "a  three  reefed  mitten  with  the  thumb 
brailed  up."  The  squalls  were  tremendous,  and  accom- 
panied by  blinding  sheets  of  snow  which  in  a  moment  en- 
veloped the  sea  in  impenetrable  gloom.  The  deck  and 
rigging  were  enveloped  in  ermine.  The  gale  increased  to 
a  hurricane.  The  little  scooner  for  the  most  part  rode 
easily,  but  sometimes  a  sea  would  go  bodily  over  her,  and 
might  have  sunk  her  but  for  the  low  bulwarks  that  al- 
lowed the  water  to  run  off.  Sometimes,  also,  she  was  car- 
ried over  so  far  that  there  was  danger  of  her  completely 
rolling  over,  a  catastrophe  that  sometimes  happens  to 
small  vessels.  Three  times  during  the  day  we  wore  ship 
in  order  that  we  might  not  be  driven  out  of  the  track  of 
steamers ;  whatever  the  weather,  business  was  not  for- 
gotten. This  manoeuvre  was,  under  the  circumstances 
one  of  extreme  peril,  and  required  utmost  coolness  and 
skill.  The  sun  went  down  over  one  of  the  wildest  scenes  I 
have  witnessed  at  sea  and  I  have  witnessed  a  good  many. 
With  some  difficulty  we  managed  to  get  supper ;  the  deaf- 
ening roar  of  the  howling  winds  and  the  thunder  of  the 
surges  pounding  on  deck  almost  deadened  the  conversation 
that  went  on  uninterruptedly  below.  Yarns  were  told, 
and  intricate  problems  with  cards  were  discussed  by  men 
in  oil  jackets  and  sou'-westers,  while  the  cook  served  out 
rations   of  hot  coffee  from  time  to  time.      The  helm  was 


341 


lashed  and  the  hatches  tightly  closed,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  to  await  whatever  might  occur. 
Any  moment  a  catastrophe  was  liable  to  overwhelm  us 
from  collision  or  foundering,  but  it  is  not  in  the  nature 
of  the  sailor  nor  is  it  expedient,  for  his  morale,  after  he 
has  taken  all  precautions,  to  borrow  trouble  about  pos- 
sibilities. A  vivid  flash  of  lightning  gleaming  through  the 
skylight  at  long  intervals  announced  that  the  tempest  was 
approaching  its  height,  and  it  was  decided  to  put  up 
stanchions,  or  posts,  in  the  cabin.  They  were  firmly  fixed 
between  the  deck  beams  and  the  cabin  floor,  to  keep  the 
ballast  from  shifting,  in  case  a  sudden  lurch  should  throw 
the  schooner  on  her  beam  ends,  a  fatal  contingency.  No 
one  slept  until  towards  dawn,  when  the  weather  moderated 
slightly. 

But  while  the  wind  was  less  fierce  and  steady,  it  blew 
hard  at  intervals,  and  the  temperature  was  so  low  that 
the  deck  was  covered  with  ice.  At  noon  we  succeeded  in 
getting  an  observation,  as  the  pale  sun  flashed  for  a 
moment  through  the  grey  scud  and  caused  the  heaving 
deck  to  look  like  molten  silver.  We  were  in  longitude 
66°  30'  and  heading  southwest  under  short  sail  when  a 
fearful  squall  blackened  the  horizon  and  rushed  towards 
us  with  frightful  rapidity.  At  the  same  moment  the 
lookout  discovered  two  steamers  and  a  pilot  boat  to  the 
eastward.  The  wildest  excitement  ensued.  Reefs  were 
shaken  out,  notwithstanding  the  squall,  and  the  little 
schooner  flew  before  the  blast  as  if  bewitched.  This  ap- 
peared the  most  ticklish  crisis  of  the  voyage,  owing  to 
the  danger  of  broaching  to.  When  the  pall  of  gloom 
finally  passed  to  leeward,  the  southermost  steamer  was 
discovered  to  have  been  boarded  by  our  rival.    Every  effort 


342 


that  skill  could  devise  was  then  put  forth  to  catch  the 
other  steamer.  As  we  lessened  the  distance,  the  Caprice 
was  hove  to  and  awaited  her  approach.  Slowing  up,  the 
great  Cunarder  gradually  drew  towards  us,  majestically 
mounting  and  plunging  on  the  vast  surges,  while  cataracts 
spouted  from  her  hawse-holes  as  the  bow  soared  skyward. 
At  this  thrilling  moment  a  whale,  a  little  shorter  than  our- 
schooner,  arose  close  alongside  the  Caprice,  spouted  as  if 
to  salute  her,  and  dived  again  into  the  depths.  The  yawl, 
only  sixteen  feet  long,  was  now  launched  over  the  leeside 
into  the  frothing  waters,  the  squall  having  happily  moder- 
ated, and  with  two  seamen  and  a  pilot  started  for  the  steam- 
er, then  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  I  confess  it  was  an 
exciting  spectacle  to  see  this  mere  cockle  shell,  with  her 
precious  freight  of  three  lives,  now  lifted  far  above  us 
on  a  mountainous  billow,  and  anon  descending  out  of 
sight  into  the  depths  of  a  hollow  vale,  and  hiding  there 
until  it  seemed  she  would  never  appear  again.  By  slow 
degrees  the  boat  succeeded  in  reaching  the  lee  side  of  the 
steamer.  There  again  the  greatest  prudence  was  required 
to  prevent  her  being  sucked  under  by  the  action  of  the 
mighty  sea.  At  last  the  pilot  made  out  to  spring  on  the 
ladder,  and  crept  up  the  side  of  the  steamer.  Then  fol- 
lowed the  equally  difficult  task  of  picking  up  the  yawl. 
It  was  done  by  holding  her  head  to  the  wind  and  allowing 
her  to  drift  down  towards  the  schooner.  By  wearing  we 
kept  directly  in  the  track  of  the  yawl ;  until  she  slipped 
across  our  stern,  and  was  hauled  up  over  our  lee  side. 
On  the  eighth  day  out  we  were  four  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  east  of  New  York.  The  day  turned  out  gloriously 
beautiful,  the  sky  cloudless,  and  the  swell  remaining  after 
the  storm  was  scarcely  dimpled  by  the  zephyr-like  cat's- 


343 


paws.  One  of  the  crack  schooners  of  the  New  York  pilot- 
fleet  loomed  above  the  western  horizon,  carrying  every 
stitch  of  canvas.  Her  shapely  sails  gleaming  in  the  morn- 
ing sun,  she  crept  up  gradually  in  our  wake,  while  another 
boat  was  also  A^isible  in  the  eastern  board.  As  it  is  a 
cut-throat  game  of  rivalry  between  the  pilot  boats,  each 
looking  out  for  itself,  we  hauled  to  the  wind  on  the  star- 
board tack  and  headed  south.  "Our  policy  is  to  scatter," 
dryly  remarked  one  of  our  pilots.  A  standing  reward  of 
two  dollars  for  the  discovery  of  a  steamer  was  now  offered 
to  the  crew.  "Sail  ho,"  rang  out  from  the  masthead  about 
noon.  It  proved  to  be  a  sailing  ship  far  to  the  south,  and 
as  the  Avind  was  light  and  the  weather  was  too  uncertain 
to  send  the  yawl  such  a  distance  we  had  to  abandon  her. 

Two  days  of  perfect  weather,  each  closing  with  a  sunset 
of  magical  splendor,  unfortunately  proved  weather  breed- 
ers. The  glass  began  to  fall,  a  sad  wind  moaned  over  the 
sullen  deep  and  wailed  in  the  rigging,  and  a  mist  gradu- 
ally closed  around  us.  Then  came  fitful  showers,  and, 
between  the  flows,  the  little  schooner  flapped  her  slatting 
sails  with  foreboding  dreariness.  That  night  there  was  a 
snow-ring  around  the  moon.  The  following  day  we  had 
an  exciting  but  useless  chase  after  a  White  Star  boat. 
Towards  night  the  wind  settled  into  an  easterly  gale. 
"Call  all  hands  to  reef!"  rang  through  the  ship.  As  the 
gale  freshened  we  concluded  to  scud  before  it  foi  home, 
having  been  twelve  days  out  of  fifteen  since  we  left  Nev/ 
York ;  and  we  were  due  for  the  Caprice  to  take  her  turn 
as  station  boat  off  Sandy  Hook.  At  sunset  the  dun  clouds 
lifted  enough  to  allow  the  sun  to  burst  forth  and  kindle 
the  horizon  with  a  band  of  living  fire,  below  which  the  ocean 
rolled    intcnsly   sullen    and   livid.      But    who    can    describe 


344 


the  awful  magnificence  wliich  irradiated  the  entire  heavens 
with  a  volcanic  glow !  The  sky  was  like  the  dome  of  a  vast 
oven  heated  to  the  last  degree.  At  the  same  moment  a 
shower  fell,  and  immediately  two  perfect  rainbows  spanned 
the  firmament.  Then,  as  if  a  curtain  had  been  drawn 
across  the  scene,  night  closed  in,  and  the  wild  vvinds 
howled  over  a  little  ship  tossing  alone  on  a  dreary  waste 
of  waters.  It  blew  hard  that  night.  A  dangerous  cross- 
sea  set  in,  and  twice  the  Caprice  was  nearly  thrown  on 
her  beam  ends.  The  following  day  notwithstanding  the 
wind,  fog,  and  rain,  we  succeeded  at  ten  of  that  night  in 
putting  a  pilot  aboard  a  large  sailing  ship.  It  was  wild 
indeed  to  see  our  little  yawl  going  off  in  the  dark  and 
the  myster}'  on  the  rolling  deep  whose  waves  could  be 
heard  but  scarcely  seen  in  the  gloom.  Nor  was  it  an  easy 
task  to  pick  up  the  yawl  on  its  return,  although  her  crew 
waved  an  Ignis-Fatuus  of  a  lantern  from  time  to  time.  We 
also  came  very  near  to  being  run  down  by  the  huge  black 
hulk  of  a  steamer  after  midnight,  which  sheered  off  just 
in  time  after  we  had  fired  the  cannon  we  carried  for  such 
nights.  At  dawn  the  war  of  the  elements  was  raging  Avith 
great  fury.  As  we  were  now  approaching  a  lee  shore  it 
had  become  highly  desirable  to  make  a  port.  The  wind 
was  southeast,  where  the  most  wicked  winds  are  raised, 
and  we  were  in  the  bight  made  by  the  coasts  of  New 
Jersey  and  Long  Island.  There  was  nothing  for  us  but 
to  scud  for  New  York,  with  the  chance  of  crossing  the 
bar  without  mishap.  Nothing  was  set  but  a  bit  of  the  fore- 
sail. At  times  it  seemed  as  if  the  hungry,  following  seas 
would  founder  the  schooner  as  they  curled  over  tlie  low 
taffrail.  Not  a  sail  was  in  sight;  not  even  a  solitary  gull. 
Excepting  the  petrels,  seabirds  keep  near  the  land  in  bad 


345 


weather,  a  fact  apparently  unknown  to  some  sea  painters. 
About  ten  the  Sandy  Hook  Lightship  hove  into  sight.  A 
tremendous  sea  was  foaming  on  the  bar,  but  the  skilful 
steering  of  the  Caprice  rode  over  it  like  a  racer  clearing 
a  hurdle,  and  ran  up  the  lower  bay  and  through  the 
Narrows  under  bare  poles.  It  was  almost  with  a  sense  of 
regret  that  I  changed  the  pure  expanses  of  ocean,  the 
lovely  little  schooner  and  her  gallant  crew  for  the  cramp- 
ing influences  and  scenes  of  city  life.  A  hundred  times 
during  the  following  week  did  I  wish  myself  on  the  Caprice 
again,  looking  out  on  the  salt  hills  whose  foaming  slopes 
she  had  breasted  so  nobly. 

In  1881  I  was  asked  by  Messrs.  Dodd  and  Mead  to 
write  the  letter  press  criticisms  on  "etchers  and  etching" 
to  accompany  a  collection  of  fine  plates  which  they  had 
secured  abroad.  The  result  was  a  sumptuous  volume  which 
sold  at  $10.,  but  eventually  went  as  high  at  $25.  a  copy. 

In  the  late  spring  of  1882  the  editors  of  the  Century 
Magazine,  evidently  satisfied  with  the  articles  I  had  al- 
ready contributed  to  that  periodical,  and  with  the  vigorous 
illustrations  furnished  by  Mr.  Burns  for  the  article  on 
the  pilot  boat  cruise,  suggested  to  us  a  still  more  im- 
portant enterprise,  one  of  the  most  important,  in  fact, 
ever  undertaken  by  an  American  magazine  up  to  that  time. 
They  now  proposed  that  we  should  charter  a  schooner  and 
explore  the  shores  of  the  gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  The  ex- 
penses were  to  be  paid  by  the  publishers,  and  my  colleague 
and  I  were  offered  satisfactory  terms  for  articles  and  illus- 
trations. Naturally  we  fell  in  with  the  proposal,  and  now 
ensued  not  the  least  entertaining  part  of  the  undertaking. 
We  had  a  delightful  experience  skurrying  about  the  shores 
of  New  York  Bay,  examining  and  pricing  yachts  that 
might  answer  the  purpose,  our  first  plan  being  to  sail  from 

346 


New  York  direct  for  the  Gulf  of  Canso,  But  this  plan  was 
abandoned  when  it  was  found  that  New  York  craft  were 
too  costly  both  as  to  the  charter  and  cost  of  running. 
It  was  then  decided  to  try  our  luck  at  Prince  Edwards 
Island.  Burns  went  a  week  ahead  of  me  and  succeeded  in 
finding  a  small  schooner,  not  such  as  he  wanted  but  the 
best  to  be  had  on  such  short  notice.  She  was  named  the 
Alice  May,  and  her  crew  consisted  of  a  captain  and  mate 
and  two  hands ;  also  a  colored  cook,  Henry  Richards,  by 
name,  who  proved  the  best  of  the  lot.  The  Alice  May 
was  only  fifty-four  feet  long  over  all,  and  sixteen  feet 
beam,  not  any  too  large  for  such  a  cruise  and  the  possi- 
bilities it  involved.  The  small  cuddy  aft  we  turned  over 
to  the  crew  and  to  the  cook's  galley.  For  ourselves  we 
reserved  the  hold.  Two  bulkheads,  one  at  each  end,  served 
to  make  us  a  rude  but  comfortable  cabin  about  16  x  15 
feet.  Rough  bunks  were  improvised  on  each  side,  and  a 
companion  way  and  a  plain  ladder  led  to  the  deck.  In  these 
simple  quarters  we  passed  nearly  three  delightful  months, 
replete  with  entertaining  adventure  and  giving  us  views 
of  some  of  the  most  magnificent  and  sublime  scenery  on 
the  east  coast  of  North  America,  much  of  which  was  scarce- 
ly known  and  had  never  before  been  described.  We  cruised 
along  the  coast  of  New  Brunswick,  went  into  the  Bay  of 
Chaleur  and  Gaspe  Bay,  ran  across  the  ]\Iagdalen  Islands, 
thence  to  the  wonderful  Bay  of  Islands  on  the  west  coast 
of  Newfoundland,  and  thence  down  to  the  southern  coast 
of  that  island  as  far  as  the  unique  French  settlement  on 
St.  Pierre  Island,  thence  to  Sidney,  Cape  Bi'eton  Island, 
througli  the  Bras  d'  Or  to  Arichat,  thence  through  the 
Gulf  of  Canso  back  to  Prince  Edward  Island.  If  we  had 
had  a  better  ship  and   crew  we  should   also  have  visited 


347 


Cheticamp.  But  our  time  M\as  about  up  and  the  equinoctial 
was  at  hand;  hence  we  ended  the  cruise  at  Georgetown, 
Prince  Edward's  Island.  But  it  is  not  my  purpose  here 
to  go  into  a  narrative  of  this  most  interesting  cruise,  for 
an  account  of  it  was  published  in  the  Century,  and  after- 
wards brought  out  in  an  attractive  volume  bearing  the 
imprimatur  of  D.  Applcton  &  Co. 

I  had  only  been  home  two  or  three  weeks  when  I  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  go  in  the  famous  old  frigate  Con- 
stitution, or  Old  Ironsides,  on  her  last  voyage.  It  is  true 
it  was  to  be  a  short  one,  only  as  far  as  Portsmouth, 
New  Hampshire,  where  she  was  to  be  laid  up,  nor  was 
she  going  under  her  own  canvas,  but  was  to  be  towed 
by  the  Powhattan,  one  of  the  early  steamships  of  our 
navy,  a  slow,  heavily  sparred,  paddle-wheel  boat.  Still 
it  was  a  matter  of  no  ordinary  interest  to  be  for  a  few  days 
in  the  historic  old  ship,  and  all  my  patriotic  blood  fired 
at  the  prospect.  I  was  strongly  advised  by  a  naval  friend, 
however,  to  decline  the  invitation,  as  the  ship  was  dread- 
fully out  of  repair  and  leaked  so  seriously  it  was  a  ques- 
tion whether  they  would  be  able  to  get  her  to  Portsmouth. 
But  this  only  stimulated  my  determination  to  go.  There 
was  a  zest  of  danger  added  to  what  might  otherwise  have 
been  a  rather  tame  affair.  Captain  Jaques,  the  very  cour- 
teous commander,  when  I  went  on  board,  reiterated  the 
possibility  that  the  old  ship  might  go  down  under  us,  and 
indicated  the  boat  to  which  I  must  betake  myself  in  case 
an  alarm  were  given.  I  occupied  the  stateroom  of  Com- 
modore Hull !  From  the  moment  I  stepped  on  her  deck 
until  we  landed  at  Portsmouth  Navy  Yard,  I  felt  myself 
as  it  were  infused  with  an  ecstasy  of  exultation.  The 
constellations   shone  with  unusual   splendor   in   the   dark, 


348 


clear  vault,  as  we  sailed  along  the  sound,  indicating  an 
east  wind  coming.  We  had  no  more  than  reached  abreast 
Martha's  Vineyard  when  the  wind  developed  into  a  gale, 
and  we  were  forced  to  come  to  anchor  at  Nantucket,  as 
it  was  not  prudent  to  venture  around  the  cape  in  such 
weather,  considering  the  condition  of  tlie  Constitution, 
The  next  afternoon,  when  the  wind  was  about  to  shift  to 
nor'west,  we  moved  our  position  to  make  a  Ice  under 
Cape  Cod,  in  Chatham  Roads.  The  fourth  afternoon, 
the  weather  being  now  serene,  we  started  out  again.  We 
were  surrounded  by  a  fleet  of  schooners  taking  advantage 
of  the  westerly  breeze,  numerous  and  beautiful  as  a  flock 
of  seafowl,  the  sails  gleaming  rosy  red  in  the  glow  of  a 
superb  sunset.  There  was  still  a  high  swell  running, 
vestige  of  the  gale,  but  everything  otherwise  promised 
a  fine  night  when,  to  the  amazement  of  all  on  board,  the 
old  ship,  courtesying  on  a  big  wave,  came  down  with  a 
terrible  thump  on  the  bar,  striking  in  the  middle  of  her 
keel.  She  repeated  the  blow,  and  we  gave  her  up  for 
lost ;  it  did  not  seem  possible  for  the  old  ship  to  survive 
two  such  blows.  The  order  was  given  to  sound  the  pumps, 
and  it  was  found  that  the  leak  had  been  doubled.  Al- 
though we  kept  on  our  course  wc  passed  an  anxious  night, 
for  it  did  not  seem  as  if  she  could  keep  afloat  till  morn- 
ing. But  the  weather  continued  fine,  the  sea  moderate,  and 
the  usual  luck  of  the  Constitution  was  still  in  her  favor. 
She  kept  afloat,  and  the  next  afternoon  she  was  at  last  laid 
at  her  destined  berth  alongside  of  the  pier  of  the  Ports- 
mouth Navy  Yard.  I  have  always  believed  firmly  in  the 
good  and  bad  luck  of  ships,  and  my  superstition  on  this 
subject,  if  superstition  it  be,  was  confirmed  by  the  escape 
of  the  Constitution  from  a  peril  that  might  have  sunk  a 
newer  ship  and  one  less  lucky. 

349 


The  following  month,  November,  1882,  after  a  period 
of  great  activity,  I  was  married  to  my  second  wife,  Mrs. 
Fannie  Nichols  Weed,  a  woman  of  warm  heart,  wide  ex- 
perience and  intelligence,  and  varied  accomplishments, 
the  author  of  a  charming,  suggestive  volume  of  essays 
which  went  through  several  editions,  published  first  by 
Ticknor  &  Co.,  and  subsequently  by  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.,  entitled  The  Sunny  Side  of  Shadow. 

During  the  succeeding  winter  Congress  passed  a  bill 
to  establish  legations  in  Siam,  Corea,  and  Persia.  I  was 
urged  by  my  friends  to  apply  for  the  Persian  mission. 
At  first  I  strongly  objected  to  doing  so.  I  had  already 
declined  several  distinct  opportunities  to  accept  foreign 
appointments.  My  objections  were  that  our  foreign  ser- 
vice is  precarious.  Various  contingencies  were  possible  that 
might  abridge  my  term  of  office  after  having  sacrificed 
other  interests  for  it.  My  father  had  been  acting  Consid 
General  for  several  years  and  I  had  been  much  in  foreign 
countries,  especially  in  the  East,  and  had  met  so  many 
diplomats  and  consuls,  that  I  knew  more  of  what  on  official 
ought  to  be,  than  most  of  our  representatives  when  they 
go  abroad  for  the  first  time.  I  had  also  read  international 
law  from  interest  in  the  subject  years  before  I  had  any 
intention  or  expectation  of  accepting  a  foreign  appoint- 
ment. But  for  these  reasons  I  felt  that  for  the  interest 
of  our  government  as  well  as  for  my  own,  I  ought  to  have 
had  some  actual  experience  in  diplomatic  life  before  under- 
taking to  establish  a  new  legation,  especially  in  a  country 
where,  I  very  well  knew,  I  must  have  more  or  less  relation 
with  the  diplomats  of  Russia,  of  whose  methods  I  was  not 
wholly  ignorant.  As  I  look  back  to  my  reflections  at  that 
time,  and  my  practical  observations  in  Persia,  I  have  no 


350 


hesitation  in  affirming  that  our  foreign  service  should  be 
a  permanent  system  like  that  of  our  army  and  navy,  such 
as  exists  with  most  civilized  governments,  involving  some 
prior  instruction  and  experience,  and  including  a  regular 
scale  of  promotion  from  clerkships  to  ambassadorial  posts, 
the  highest  offices  to  be  dependent  on  proved  special  fit- 
ness conditioned  on  previous  education  and  experience. 
At  seventy,  the  official,  whatever  his  rank  might  perhaps 
be  retired  on  half  pay.  This  is  the  true,  the  common  sense 
system  on  which  our  foreign  service  should  be  conducted. 
As  to  gaining  the  appointment  to  foreign  posts  it  is  the 
quality  or  character,  and  not  the  quantity  of  endorse- 
ments that  should  and  generally  do  carry  weight  in  pro- 
curing such  positions.  One  good,  warm  friend  well-known 
can  do  more  for  one  than  a  ton  of  perfunctory  names. 
One  of  my  letters  was  from  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  An- 
other, strange  to  say,  was  from  Mr.  Garfield,  who  had 
been  in  his  grave  several  months.  It  was  a  strong  docu- 
ment which  he  had  furnished  me  some  years  previously 
when  I  thought  of  seeking  an  appointment  elsewhere,  but 
when  I  decided  negatively,  I  had  laid  the  letter  aside 
as  an  autograph,  and  now  it  came  in  ver}^  handily,  apply- 
ing to  his  successor.  Another  letter  was  from  the  secre- 
tary of  the  Presbyterian  Board  of  Missions.  Having  ac- 
complished this  much,  I  left  the  matter  to  destiny,  little 
expecting  success.  Judge  then,  of  my  surprise  Avhen  I  took 
up  the  New  York  paper  one  evening  after  dinner,  and  saw 
that  my  name  had  been  sent  in  by  the  President.  But 
getting  the  nomination  was  in  this  case,  only  half 
the  battle.  There  were  a  number  of  candidates  for  the 
place,  two  or  three  of  them  at  least,  men  of  fitness  and 
ability,    who    had    been    abroad    in    the    service,    one    of 

351 
23 


them  backed  by  a  university,  another,  brother  of  the 
governor  of  a  great  state,  and  from  the  way  they  were 
using  the  press  I  knew  they  were  working  like  beavers, 
and  if  they  could  not  get  it,  they  were  seemingly  bound 
that  I  should  not.  On  the  other  hand,  having  got  thus  far, 
I  did  not  propose  to  be  bluffed  or  beaten.  I  did  not  go  near 
a  paper;  that  was  not  the  sort  of  influence  I  needed  then. 
But  I  brought  powerful  personal  influences  to  bear  on 
the  senators  directly,  and  thus,  after  the  result  had  been 
pending  for  weeks,  I  was  confirmed  by  a  comfortable 
majority.  But  I  did  not  go  near  Washington  until  sum- 
moned there  to  get  my  instructions. 


352 


CHAPTER   XV. 

INCIDENTS  OF  LIFE  IN  PERSIA. 

In  my  books  on  Persia,  The  Story  of  Persia,  and  Persia 
and  the  Persians  I  presented  respectively  a  sketch  of  the 
history  of  that  country  and  a  description  of  its  customs, 
people,  scenery,  government  and  resources,  as  they  were 
when  I  was  there.  I  propose  here  to  give  a  narrative  of 
some  of  the  chief  incidents  with  which  I  was  personally 
connected  during  my  residence  in  Persia.  This  will  natur- 
ally include  some  incidents  which  I  could  not  properly 
describe  while  in  official  position,  or  which  it  might  not 
have  been  expedient  to  make  public  for  some  thne  in  order 
not  to  embarrass  our  government.  The  time  has  come, 
however,  when  I  can  speak  more  freely,  and  in  fact,  may 
render  a  service  in  doing  so.  Since  I  left  Persia  our  coun- 
try has  been  brought  by  the  war  with  Spain,  into  more 
intimate  relations  with  foreign  powers,  and  has  been 
obliged  to  abandon  our  flaccid  policy  for  one  more  in 
accordance  Avith  our  growing  commerce  and  national 
power. 

I  foresaw  that  the  task  before  me  was  one  of  unusual 
difficulty,  requiring  caution  and  alertness.  I  was  com- 
missioned to  establish  a  legation  in  a  country  that  knew 
next  to  nothing  about  the  United  States,  and  so  situated 


353 


that  it  would  be  practically  impossible  for  our  government 
to  aid  me  by  demonstrations  of  military  or  naval  strength, 
and  hence,  where  I  would  have  to  depend  wholly  on  my  own 
tact  and  firmness.  I  knew  enough  to  be  aware  that  the 
other  legations  at  Teheran,  excepting  perhaps  those  of 
England  and  Austria-Hungary,  would  throw  obstacles  in 
my  way.  From  Russian  influence  in  Persia  I  knew  I  must 
expect  opposition  unless  I  permitted  our  legation  to  play 
into  his  hands  and  become  subservient  to  Russia's  aims. 
She  feared  the  missionary  influence  in  a  land  she  hoped 
eventually  to  absorb,  and  the  possible  friendly  relations 
of  the  British  legation  with  our  own.  These  difficulties 
I  had  to  meet,  and  also  to  establish  precedents  and  pres- 
tige, which,  once  established,  would  make  the  work  of  my 
successors  far  less  arduous  than  mine  would  be  likely  to 
prove.  For  these  reasons  I  decided  not  to  go  through 
Russia  proper,  but  by  way  of  Constantinople.  At  that 
place  I  could  get  some  points,  and  gradually  approach 
these  difficulties  by  a  subsequent  passage  through  Russian 
territory  across  the  Caucasas.  Caution  and  alertness  was 
the  motto  I  proposed  to  follow,  to  which,  later  on,  I  found 
it  necessary  to  add  firmness.  Those  three  words  form  the 
basis  of  diplomacy  in  dealing  with  Russians  and  Orient- 
als generally.  Fortunately  I  had  a  good  knowledge  of 
the  French  language,  as  well  as  Greek  and  Turkish,  and 
some  experience  in  speaking  other  European  tongues,  all 
of  which  proved  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  me  from  the 
first  moment  I  entered  Russian  territory,  and  crossed  the 
threshold  of  Persia,  until  the  last  day  of  my  services 
abroad.  One  can  travel  almost  anywhere  in  Russia  with 
a  knowledge  of  French,  and  all  the  foreigners  in  Persia 
except   Americans,   and   many   of   the   chief   officials    and 


354 


grandees  of  that  kingdom  are  conversant  with  it.  The 
Shah  himself  was  familiar  with  that  language.  What  I 
should  have  done,  situated  as  I  was  at  that  time,  without 
such  knowledge  I  do  not  know ;  my  hands  would  have  been 
practically  bound.  Before  I  left  Persia  I  could  also  under- 
stand most  that  was  said  in  Persian,  and  should  have  been 
able  to  converse  in  it  fluently,  although  I  was  too  busy 
while  there  to  study  it  systematically. 

At  the  port  of  Resht,  on  the  Caspian  I  was  taken  from 
the  Russian  steamer  to  the  shore  in  a  smaller  steamboat, 
termed  the  Shah's  yacht.  It  was  the  only  vessel  on  the 
Caspian  sea  owned  by  the  Persian  government;  but  the  in- 
fluence of  Russia  was  painfully  evident  from  the  fact  that 
even  this  small  craft  was  not  permitted  to  fly  Persian  col- 
ors !  After  an  attractive  collation,  we  were  rowed  up  a 
sluggish,  tawny  stream  to  the  city  of  Resht,  where  we 
Avere  met  by  dignitaries  on  horseback  who  escorted  us  to 
the  palace  of  the  governor.  There  we  were  hospitably  en- 
tertained for  two  or  three  days  making  preparations  for 
the  journey  to  the  capital.  M.  Vlassof,  the  Russian  con- 
sul and  his  wife,  also  invited  us  to  dine,  receiving  us  with 
the  effusive  hospitality  and  the  delicious  menu  peculiar  to 
Russia,  where  there  is  friendship  between  host  and  guest  or 
something  to  gain  by  cordiality.  In  this  case  there  was  a 
mixture  of  both.  But  I  did  not  know  whether  to  be  amused 
or  offended  by  M.  Vlassof's  patronizing  and  demon- 
strative recommendation  to  rely  on  the  Russian  minister 
at  Teheran,  to  render  me  all  the  assistance  and  advice  I 
might  need  in  dealing  with  those  "canaille"  the  Persians. 
I  thanked  him  with  the  guileless  air  of  one  who  would  fall 
easily  into  the  trap. 


355 


Before  starting  from  Reslit  a  dispatch  was  received  by 
the  mehmandar  or  dignitary  deputed  to  escort  me  to 
Teheran,  which  stated  that  the  Shah  was  to  leave  his  capi- 
tal for  the  season,  and  unless  I  arrived  there  within  a  cer- 
tain day,  I  could  not  present  my  credentials  until  his  re- 
turn, which  might  not  be  for  three  months  or  more,  and 
I  could  not  otherwise  enter  the  capital  city.  This  contin- 
gency was  of  course  to  be  avoided,  if  possible,  and  there- 
fore at  the  last  moment  I  had  to  completely  change  my 
plans.  I  had  to  hasten  on  with  the  mehmandar  and  one 
servant  by  chappd  or  post,  which  meant  going  at  a  gal- 
lop, chiefly  at  night,  at  the  rate  of  eighty  to  one  hundred 
miles  a  day.  As  I  had  not  been  on  a  horse  for  a  dozen 
years,  this  was  a  cheerful  prospect.  But  what  I  most 
cared  about  was  that  I  was  obliged  to  leave  my  wife  and 
daughter  behind,  to  follow  me  by  slow  stages  over  the 
lonely,  mountainous  roads  of  a  thinly  peopled  country 
of  which  they  knew  nothing,  guided  by  servants  and  mule- 
teers. It  is  true  I  left  them  with  my  faithful  Nestorian 
head  servant,  and  my  private  secretary,  who,  as  a  recent 
graduate  of  Harvard,  might  reasonably  be  supposed  to 
know  everything  worth  knowing;  but  that  was  scarcely 
enough  in  a  country  that  had  never  heard  of  Harvard. 
After  two  weeks  and  a  half,  however,  they  accomplished 
the  mountainous  overland  journey  of  250  miles,  and  re- 
joined me  safely. 

The  ride  by  chappd  is  strangely  interesting;  at  long 
intervals  one  meets  a  party  going  the  opposite  direction  ; 
neither  stops,  but  goes  on  without  a  word,  as  if  bound  on 
the  unknown  errands  of  Allah  on  enchanted  steeds  that 
have  been  flying  over  the  wastes  of  ages  with  the  mystic 
messages  of  destiny. 


356 


"This  is  indeed  like  diving  into  the  centuries  of  k)ng 
ago,  into  the  mazes  of  history  of  which  Firdusi  chants 
in  immortal  strains,  into  the  very  heart  of  Central  Asia 
to  which  I  am  bound!"  Thus  I  kept  saying  to  myself  as 
we  flew  onward  as  if  forever  on  this  mystic  race.  My  fancy 
was  on  fire  even  though  I  began  to  grow  very  weary,  for 
although  accustomed  to  riding  at  one  time,  this  was  the 
first  time  I  had  mounted  the  saddle  for  years,  my  wander- 
ings having  led  me  across  the  grey  seas  on  reeling  decks, 
and  lulled  by  the  roar  of  the  ocean  foam  rather  than  on 
the  back  of  horses  stretching  out  for  the  provender  and 
the  stall  to  which  they  were  bound. 

When  we  had  galloped  sixteen  miles — fortunately  the 
horse,  the  stallion  of  Persia,  gallops  instead  of  trots,  and 
this,  in  my  opinion,  is  easier — when  we  had  reached  the 
fourth  station  of  that  first  ride,  I  say  I  began  to  feel 
very  sore.  But  this  would  not  do,  if  we  were  to  reach  the 
capital  in  time  for  the  audience  before  the  successor  of 
Cyrus  and  Chosroes  should  start  for  his  summer  pleasur- 
ing. 

Although  I  heartily  enjoyed  the  canter  over  the  moun- 
tain passes,  and  the  rests  at  the  picturesque  wayside  cara- 
vanserai, yet  I  was  hardly  in  a  fit  state,  after  such  un- 
accustomed exertion,  to  encounter  the  "reception"  pre- 
paring for  me  as  we  approached  the  capital,  a  reception 
that  was  an  exceeding  tax  on  the  nerves  of  one  who  had 
hitherto  had  little  to  do  personally  with  public  functions. 
In  former  ages  the  arrival  of  an  envoy  at  a  European  or 
foreign  court  was  a  matter  of  very  great  moment,  and  the 
pomp  and  ceremony  employed  on  such  an  occasion  went  by 
the  name  of  solemn  entry.  But  all  this  has  been  done  away 
with  by  the  increasing  intercourse  of  nations.    A  minister 


357 


arrives  quietly  by  boat  or  train,  is  met  at  the  pier  or  the 
station  by  an  attache,  and  proceeds  to  his  quarters  like 
any  private  citizen.  On  a  subsequent  day  he  presents  his 
letters  of  credence  with  scarcely  more  pomp,  and  that  is 
all  of  it  that  comes  under  the  public  eye.  But  in  Persia 
the  first  arrival  of  a  foreign  envoy  at  the  capital  was  still 
celebrated  with  all  the  imposing  pomp  and  punctilio  cus- 
tomary in  olden  time.  Whether  it  is  now  falling  into  dis- 
use in  Persia  I  know  not.* 

I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  exchange  my  traveling 
clothes  for  a  black  suit  at  a  station  a  few  miles  from  the 
pavilion  of  the  race-course  near  the  city  where  the  high 
dignitaries  of  the  realm  were  waiting  to  escort  me.  It 
was  a  handsome,  imposing  body  of  men  who  met  me  there, 
in  magnificent  uniforms  glittering  with  gems  and  gold 
lace.  I  exchanged  my  travelling  suit  for  one  of  black,  and 
my  tough,  lean-boned  post-horse  for  one  of  the  most 
superb  stallions  of  the  royal  stables  (his  long  tail  dyed 
crimson,  indicating  he  was  a  gift  from  the  King)  and  the 
procession  started  for  the  city.  Besides  the  officials  al- 
ready mentioned,  who  were  all  mounted,  there  were  several 
regiments  of  infantry  and  cavalry,  including  a  regiment 
of  Persian  Cossacks  who  went  through  every  manner  of 
skilful  evolutions,  as  we  proceeded  across  the  plain  to 
the  city  gate. 

On  arriving  at  the  palace  it  was  my  first  duty  to  wait 
on   the  minister   of   foreign    affairs   whose   official   apart- 


*The  following  description  of  Mr.  Benjamin's  personal  appear- 
ance about  this  time  was  given  by  a  New  York  journalist :  "The  new 
Minister  is  a  man  with  slight  upright  body,  topped  with  a  taking  head. 
His  face  is  a  thing  of  good  looks,  his  mustachios  betoken  a  man  of 
forty-five  years  or  so,  and  straight  out  through  rimless  glasses,  smile 
eyes,  that  have  a  touch  of  the  eagle's  in  them,  a  type,  quite  out  of  the 
ordinary." 

358 


ments  joined  the  ark  or  palace  of  the  Shah.  He  received 
me  with  true  Oriental  affability,  and  the  customary  refresh- 
ments were  served.  In  due  time  a  messenger  announced 
that  the  Shah  was  ready  to  receive  the  American  envoy. 
The  minister  of  ceremonies  then  took  me  in  charge,  an  in- 
genious young  noble,  son-in-law  of  the  Shah,  and  robed 
in  superb  stuffs,  stiff  with  magnificent  embroidery.  In 
his  right  hand  he  bore  a  staff  inlaid  with  elaborate  de- 
signs. He  walked  by  my  side.  With  slow  and  measured 
steps  we  descended  and  proceeded  to  the  palace  followed 
by  many  attendants.  The  audience  hall  was  reached  by 
another  flight  of  stairs.  At  the  entrance  I  slipped  off 
my  galoshes,  worn  for  the  nonce,  but  not  my  shoes.  This 
was  a  diplomatic  compromise  with  a  custom  immemorial 
in  the  East,  not  so  much  an  indication  of  inferiority 
as  a  necessity  by  existing  conditions.  The  rugs  of  Asia, 
often  very  rich,  sometimes  indeed  of  silk  or  of  hand  em- 
broidery, were  not  made  to  be  trodden  upon  and  worn 
out  by  heavy  shoes. 

The  audience  hall  which  I  now  entered  was  a  vast 
apartment  whose  ceiling  was  vaulted,  while  the  floor  was 
inlaid  with  a  rich  mosaic  of  glazed  tiles.  A  row  of  arm 
chairs  on  either  hand,  covered  with  beaten  gold,  led  up  the 
hall  to  the  famous  peacock  throne,  one  of  the  world's 
great  historic  treasures  brought  from  Delhi  by  tlij  famous 
Nadir  Shah.  A  few  paces  in  front  of  the  throne  stood  the 
worthy  successor  of  Djemsheed,  Cyrus,  Darius,  Ardeshir, 
Anoorshirman,  Abbass,  and  Nadir;  Nasr-ed-Deen  Shah, 
who  with  the  majesty  that  befits  a  king,  awaited  my 
approach.  For  one  who  was  new  to  official  life  and  royal 
pomps,  it  was  a  trying  moment;  and  as  I  contrasted  my 


359 


inexperience  with  his  reign  of  forty  years,  and  my  plain 
black  garb  with  his  glittering  splendor,  it  required  a 
consciousness  of  our  potential  power  and  of  the  four  hun- 
dred millions  of  "reserve"  at  that  time  in  our  treasury 
to  brace  my  nerves  for  the  ordeal  that  confronted  me. 

A  little  at  one  side  of  the  Shah,  stood  his  brother-in- 
law,  the  Muschir-i-Dowleh,  one  of  the  first  magnates  of 
the  court,  who  spoke  French  admirably  and  acted  as  in- 
terpreter. Although  the  Shah  spoke  that  language  with 
some  facility,  and  understood  it  well,  at  a  formal  state 
function  like  this,  his  dignity  permitted  him  to  use  only 
his  native  tongue.  On  later  and  less  ceremonious  oc- 
casions he  sometimes  conversed  with  me  without  the  in- 
tervention of  an  interpreter. 

After  bidding  me  welcome  with  a  genial  nod  and  a  few 
pleasant  words,  it  was  signified  that  the  presentation  of 
my  letters  of  credence  was  in  order.  I  laid  the  document 
on  a  plate  of  solid  gold,  which  was  extended  towards  me 
by  the  Muschir-i-Dowleh,  and  then  replied  with  a  few 
pertinent  observations  in  French.  The  Shah  inquired  in 
turn  after  the  health  of  the  President,  expressed  the  hope 
that  my  journey  had  been  agreeable,  that  his  people  were 
duly  mindful  of  my  comfort,  and  that  my  stay  in  Persia 
might  prove  agreeable  and  for  the  advantage  of  both 
nations.  He  then  took  a  step  back,  said,  ^^Marakhus  est," 
"It  is  permitted  to  withdraw,"  and  the  audience  was  at  an 
end. 

To  retire  backwards  the  length  of  that  stately  hall 
while  his  Majesty  waited  until  I  passed  out  of  sight  was 
an  awkward  affair  for  one  not  in  practice,  demanding  all 
my  circumspection.    I  found  on  subsequent  occasions,  when 


360 


the  entire  diplomatic  corps  repaired  to  the  royal  presence 
on  festal  occasions,  that  even  greater  care  was  required, 
while  five  or  six  entire  legations  were  obliged  to  retire  back- 
wards together  without  any  contretemps.  On  less  formal 
interviews  I  was  received  sometimes  in  more  private  apart- 
ments of  the  palace. 

On  my  return  to  my  quarters  from  the  royal  audience 
I  was  waited  on  by  the  first  secretary  of  the  Turkish  Am- 
bassador, who  was  dean  of  the  diplomatic  corps.  He  came 
ostensibly  to  arrange  the  time  when  I  would  be  prepared 
to  exchange  calls  of  ceremony  with  the  legations,  but  in 
reality  his  errand  was  to  raise  anew  the  question  which 
had  been  raised  and  settled  at  every  European  court  in 
turn,  and  which  it  was  now  my  turn  to  meet  and  settle, 
the  question  of  official  uniform.  As  is  well  known,  an 
American  envoy  is  enjoined  to  wear  on  official  occasions 
a  civilian's  suit  of  plain  black,  no  matter  how  magnificent 
the  uniforms  of  other  officials  present.  But  I  knew  that  the 
point  was  likely  to  come  up  on  the  establishment  of  a 
new  legation  at  a  distant  post,  and,  would  be  made  a  test 
case  by  which  to  put  my  mettle  to  the  proof.  Hence  I 
was  prepared  with  my  answer  when  the  secretary  said, 
"His  Excellency,  the  Ambassador,  wished  me  to  inquire 
in  what  dress  your  excellency  will  receive  the  members 
of  the  diplomatic  corps." 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  call  on  them  and  to  receive  their 
visits,  and  shall  wear  a  plain  black  suit  on  those  oc- 
casions," I  replied. 

"In  that  case,  of  course,  they  also  will  call  on  your  ex- 
cellency in  black," 

"On  the  contrary  that  would  be  inadmissible ;  for  I 
shall  wear  the  identical  suit  I  wore  in  the  presence  of  the 


361 


President  of  the  United  States  and  of  his  Majesty,  the 
Shah  of  Persia,  and  I  shall  expect  the  members  of  the 
diplomatic  corps  to  exchange  official  visits  with  my  le- 
gation in  the  uniforms  that  they  wear  on  similar  occasions. 
Kindly  present  my  compliments  to  the  Ambassador,  your 
chief,  and  say  that  I  should  greatly  regret  any  delay  on 
this  account,  but  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  offer  any 
other  reply  on  this  question." 

This  was  the  last  I  heard  of  this  question.  I  wore 
black,  and  they  wore  gold  lace  galore,  but  we  got  along 
very  pleasantly  notwithstanding,  and  no  one  ever  thought 
after  that,  what  clothes  we  had  on.  Notwithstanding  all 
this,  I  am  bound  to  admit  that  I  think  our  way  of  clothing 
our  officials  abroad  in  plain  black  is  a  foolish  affectation, 
an  ostentation  of  republican  simplicity  that  no  longer 
exists.  It  is  all  right  at  home,  but  abroad  it  looks  like  the 
jejune  eccentricity  of  a  crude  people.  Every  one  knows 
that  with  the  vast  national  wealth  we  now  enjoy  we  have 
become  one  of  the  most  luxurious,  splendor  loving,  spec- 
tacular people  in  the  world.  Why  then  affect  such  official 
simplicity?  It  is  not  necessary  that  our  diplomats  should 
copy  the  costly  splendor  of  foreign  officials ;  but  a  uni- 
form with  some  modest  decorations  would  not  hurt  the 
brains  of  our  diplomats  and  would  make  them  less  con 
spicuously  eccentric  amid  the  formal  ceremonies  of  diplo- 
matic life.  The  attempt  of  one  of  my  successors  at 
Teheran  to  wear  a  military  uniform  was  not  as  absurd  as 
some  of  our  comic  sheets  tried  to  make  it  appear. 

My  first  duty  after  disposing  of  these  august  cere- 
monies was  to  secure  a  lodging  for  myself  and  family. 
The  native  khans  or  hostelries  were  of  course  oat  of  the 
question.      The   small  French  hotel  was  hardly  equal   to 


362 


the  occasion,  aside  from  the  fact  that  owing  to  the  ar- 
rival of  the  hot  season,  and  the  removal  of  the  court  and 
the  European  colony  to  the  country,  it  was  there  that  I 
must  seek  for  a  temporary  abode,  and  that,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  furniture  and  for  other  reasons,  was  extremely 
difficult  at  this  juncture.  The  missionaries  kindly  re- 
lieved my  embarrassment  by  placing  part  of  their  summer 
quarters  at  Tejrish  in  the  Shimran,  at  my  disposal.  This 
was  feasible  owing  to  the  usual  plan  of  the  dwellings  of 
the  Shimran  scattered  over  wide  space  under  dense 
masses  of  embowering  foliage,  including  the  quarters  of  the 
men  and  the  anderoon  or  apartments  of  the  women.  My 
next  duty  was  to  engage  a  dragoman,  a  most  important 
functionary  at  an  Oriental  legation,  especially  when  the 
minister  is  aided  by  few  or  no  attaches.  The  latter  was  my 
case,  although  I  had  to  execute  the  double  duties  of 
minister  and  consul  general.  I  was  most  fortunate  in 
securing  the  services  of  Mr.  Alfred  B.  Keiin,  a  young 
man  whose  great  natural  ability  was  supplemented  by  his 
varied  experience  under  the  Persian  government  and  by 
the  official  traditions  of  his  family,  which  had  held  con- 
sular positions  in  the  Levant  for  several  generations. 
He  was  of  Dutch  and  English  descent,  although  reared 
in  the  East.  My  knowledge  of  conditions  in  the  Levant 
enabled  me  to  perceive  at  once  the  advantage  of  engaging 
Mr.  Keiin  as  dragoman  which,  in  this  case  was  equivalent 
to  first  secretary.  And  I  never  had  reason  to  regret  my 
selection.  Indeed  his  experience  and  intelligence  proved  of 
the  greatest  use  to  me.  My  own  private  secretary  whom 
I  had  to  pay  out  of  my  limited  resources,  was  entirely 
inexperienced.  After  this  I  had  to  engage  a  moonsTiee 
or  Oriental  secretary,  who  must  be  capable  of  translating 


363 


documents  into  the  official  language  of  Persia,  and  must 
also  have  some  knowledge  of  French.  Asker  Khan,  a 
shrewd  Afghan,  filled  this  place  with  acceptance.  He 
needed  a  little  watching,  but  I  found  in  him  the  man 
I  needed,  and  both  of  these  gentlemen  continued  attached 
to  the  legation  until  my  return  home.  I  also  appointed 
as  vice  consul  general,  Doctor  Torrence,  a  missionary  phy- 
sician at  Teheran.  He  was  to  act  as  consul  in  the  event 
of  my  absence,  but  without  salary  except  when  actual 
locum  tenens. 

The  next  important  duty  to  be  done  was  the  preparation 
of  a  code,  for  the  administration  of  justice  to  United  States 
citizens  and  proteges  in  Persia.  For  the  benefit  of  those 
who  are  not  informed,  it  may  be  well  to  state  that  owing 
to  the  differences  in  the  dispensation  of  legal  principles, 
especially  when  Church  and  State  united  in  the  govern- 
ing power,  there  arose  what  is  called  the  right  of  extra- 
territoriality by  which  the  citizens  or  subjects  of  one  coun- 
try, resident  in  another  country,  have  a  right  to  be  pro- 
tected or  tried  under  their  own  law^s  by  their  own  minister 
or  consul ;  and  the  premises  of  the  legation  or  consulate 
are  considered  as  being  an  integral  part  of  their  owti 
country,  and  the  invasion  of  such  legation  or  consulate 
is  equivalent  to  an  invasion  of  the  country  whose  officials 
are  occupying  it.  The  code 

I  drew  up  was  in  accord  with  the  Statutes  of  the  United 
States  with  special  adaptations  to  conditions  in  Persia. 
After  being  approved  by  the  attorney  general  at  Wash- 
ington it  went  into  practice  in  Persia.  According  to  its 
provisions  all  cases  between  American  citizens  were  tried 
in  the  consulate,  at  Teheran  or  in  any  other  United 
States     consular     courts     in     Persia,     subject     to     final 


354 


revision  by  the  Minister.  Convictions  for  capital  crimes 
were  referred  for  final  decision  to  the  President,  as  in 
court  martials.  Cases  between  American  citizens  and  Per- 
sian subjects  were  tried  in  Persian  courts  but  before  a 
U.  S.  official,  who  would  see  that  the  Persian  law  was  ad- 
ministered without  prejudice.  Cases  between  American 
citizens  and  the  subjects  of  countries  other  than  Persia, 
were  to  be  tried  in  the  consular  court  and  under  the  laws 
of  the  defendant,  with  an  official  of  the  same  nation  as 
the  plaintiff  to  serve  as  counsel  for  him. 

My  next  duty  was  to  secure  and  furnish  suitable  prem- 
ises in  Teheran  for  the  legation  and  consulate  and  to 
furnish  them.  The  furnishing  of  the  former  had  to  be 
paid  out  of  my  own  pocket  and  cost  far  more  even  than 
in  the  United  States,  the  most  expensive  country  in  the 
world.  The  house  I  rented  was  of  adobe  faced,  and  deco- 
rated with  gatch  or  plaster  of  Paris,  like  most  of  the 
buildings  in  Central  Persia,  where  wood  and  stone  are 
scarce  and  the  climate  is  dry  and  steady.  It  was  of 
one  story,  but  contained  upwards  of  twenty  large  apart- 
ments, around  three  courts,  one  large  court  for  the  living 
rooms,  one  for  bath,  and  one  for  the  stables.  The  windows 
all  gave  on  the  courts.  What  added  interest  was  the  fact 
that  it  was  owned  by  the  husband  of  the  famous  Madeleine 
Lemaire,  the  admirable  artist  who  illustrated  U  Abbe 
Constantin,  and  who  stands  among  the  leading  artists  of 
her  sex  at  Paris. 

Owing  to  conditions  in  Persia  it  was  necessary  for  me, 
although  keeping  down  the  expenses  of  the  legation  to 
the  lowest  possible  scale,  as  I  had  to  pay  myself  at  least 
a  dollar  for  every  dollar  the  government  paid,  it  was 
necessary,  I  say,  to  purchase  a  carriage  and  maintain  at 


365 


least  a  dozen  horses  in  the  stable,  and  from  twelve  to 
fourteen  servants.  By  the  special  request  of  the  Shah,  for 
the  better  protection  of  the  legations  in  a  ^Mohammedan 
country,  where  Europeans  were  very  few,  I  was  obliged 
to  include  a  corporal  and  twelve  soldiers  in  my  menage, 
whose  pay  and  board  had  to  come  out  of  the  legation 
funds.  Some  of  the  other  legations  at  Teheran  had 
from  twenty-five  to  forty  soldiers.  These  men  received 
a  new  password  every  evening,  and  had  to  stand  alternate 
watches.  All  these  people,  with  their  own  families  and 
servants,  were  proteges  of  the  legation  while  in  its  ser- 
vice, entitled  to  its  protection  as  to  their  persons,  goods 
and  chattels,  even  to  a  matter  of  medical  aid,  and  were 
also  liable  to  trial  and  punishment  under  the  laws  of  the 
legation.  Thus  we  formed  quite  a  patriarchal  community 
under  the  American  flag  at  Teheran,  besides  the  citizens 
for  whose  protection  the  legation  was  established.  I 
estimated  that  I  had  a  family  of  112  souls  to  look  after 
at  Teheran. 

Another  duty  before  me  on  settling  in  our  city  resi- 
dence was  the  erection  of  a  suitable  flagstaff.  The  govern- 
ment had  sent  me  two  large  flags.  The  short  poles  put 
over  the  gates  of  the  Persian  palaces  and  of  legations 
would  not  answer.  I  had  been  accustomed  to  see  the  con- 
sular flagstaff  in  the  Levant  lofty,  like  a  ship's  mast, 
with  topmast  and  crosstrees.  The  reason  they  did  not 
have  such  at  Teheran  was  because  the  Persians  did  not 
know  how  to  make  them.  I  determined  to  put  one  up  at 
Teheran  which  should  overtop  every  other  flag  at  that 
capital.  I  made  a  model  of  such  a  flagstaff  myself  on  a 
scale,  for  the  guidance  of  my  workmen.  Then  I  went  to 
the  bazaars  and  selected  the  spars.    Everything  had  to  be 


366 


made  for  it,  including  the  rope  for  stays  and  guys  and 
halyards,  and  the  blocks  for  hoisting  and  lowering  the 
topmast  in  the  occasional  heavy  squalls.  I  had  to  super- 
intend everything  even  to  the  setting  it  up.  The  minister 
of  war  kindly  loaned  me  windlasses  and  a  gang  of  men, 
and  finally  got  it  in  place.  It  was  painted  and  scraped 
like  a  ship's  mast  and  a  gilded  ball  of  hollow  brass  capped 
the  truck.  Our  government  allowed  me  $150.  towards  this 
flagstaff,  and  it  cost  me  .$261.;  the  balance  of  course 
came  out  of  my  own  pocket.  But  I  felt  amply  repaid 
when  I  could  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes  flying  above  the 
roofs  of  Persia's  capital,  no  other  flag  being  in  sight ;  when 
the  English  minister  with  envious  eyes  complimented  me 
on  my  success ;  and  when  Nasr-ed-Deen  Shah  himself  rode 
past  the  legation  on  purpose  to  see  the  new  flagstaff  and 
the  glorious  banner  that  was  flowing  from  it  to  the  breeze. 
I  think  I  felt  more  proud  of  that  undertaking  than  if  I 
had  published  a  successful  book. 

Only  a  few  days  after  my  arrival  in  Teheran  an  inci- 
dent occurred  due  to  the  indiscretion  of  some  of  our 
American  colony,  which  later,  led  to  serious  results  mak- 
ing it  a  very  difficult  case  to  settle. 

By  the  laws  of  Persia,  Christian  churches  and  Jewish 
synagogues  that  had  long  existed,  were  allowed  to  be  re- 
paired and  rebuilt  if  on  the  same  foundations.  But  ab- 
solutely no  religious  edifices  on  new  sites  could  at  that 
time  be  erected  in  Persia  without  a  special  order  from 
the  authorities,  which  except  for  Mohammedanism,  was 
by  no  means  easy,  althovigh  sometimes  possible,  to  obtain. 

The  American  missionaries  had  built  a  new  church, 
shortly  before  I  arrived,  and  liad  neglected  to  apply  for 
the  necessary  license.     This  injudicious  procedure  natur- 

367 
24 


ally  caused  comment  among  Persians,  and  too  soon  we  had 
reason  to  apprehend  trouble.  In  view  of  my  approach- 
ing arrival,  the  Government  for  the  time  had  winked  at 
the  matter,  and  no  avert  opposition  had  yet  occurred. 

The  premises  opposite  the  school  ground,  where  the 
new  church  was  erected,  was  occupied  by  the  city  man- 
sion of  Emin-e-Sultan,  one  of  the  most  powerful  and 
wealthy  nobles  in  Persia ;  he  was  a  favorite  of  the  Shah, 
with  whom  he  had  great  influence.  He  honestly  feared  the 
result  of  foreign  ideas  and  influence  in  his  country  at  that 
time,  and  his  conservatism  made  him  a  leading  factor 
against  missionary  effort  in  Teheran.  I  had  gone  to  my 
summer  home  in  the  Shimran,  when  a  swift  messenger 
came  one  hot  day  with  the  news  that  a  riot  had  occurred. 
The  retainers  of  the  Emin-i-Sultan  in  the  city  attacked  a 
gang  of  men  who  were  building  the  new  missionary  chapel. 

I  went  to  town,  as  soon  as  a  swift  horse  could  carry  me, 
examined  into  the  matter,  and  obtained  from  the  minister 
of  foreign  affairs  an  assurance  that  the  American  mis- 
sionaries should  not  be  again  disturbed : — but  this  was  not 
the  end.  The  causes  lay  deep  under  the  surface.  The 
whole  body  of  the  Mollahs  (Mohammedan  clergy)  were 
back  of  the  disturbance  as  were  also  the  judiciary.  When 
the  church  was  completed,  and  was  about  to  be  dedicated 
the  missionaries  received  official  notice  from  the  foreign  of- 
fice that  they  had  no  authority  for  opening  a  new  house 
of  worship,  therefore  the  church  must  be  closed.  The 
Persians  had  acted  within  their  laws,  and  I  had  anticipated 
the  only  course  left  open  to  me  to  settle  matters  for  the 
present,  without  bloodshed. 

As  a  foreign  envoy,  I  had  a  right  to  a  house  of  wor- 
ship for  the  U.  S.  Legation — moreover  as  the  English  had 


368 


no  chapel,  I  asked  Sir  Ronald  Thompson,  the  minister, 
if  they  would  not  join  us  provided  the  English  service 
could  be  read ;  he  readily  consented,  and  thus  the  Per- 
sians were  apparently  checkmated,  but  the  Prince  was  a 
consummate  strategist.  He  foresaw  that,  sooner  or  later 
the  missionaries  would  get  Mohammedan  converts  into  the 
church  and  in  due  time  official  notice  was  lodged  at  the 
legation,  that  Persians  had  been  seen  attending  the  ser- 
vices. The  premises  were  watched  and  I  was  notified,  this 
"could  not  be  allowed  as  it  was  clearly  against — treaty 
regulations." 

The  missionaries  finally  agreed  not  to  invite  Mohamme- 
dans to  attend  the  services,  on  the  other  hand  they  would 
not  put  them  out,  if  they  attended. 

I  represented  to  the  foreign  office,  that  the  ]Mohamme- 
dan  clergy  or  others,  were  entirely  at  liberty  to  hinder  or 
arrest  Persians  who  wished  to  enter  the  chapel ;  we 
should  in  no  way  interfere.  After  this,  things  quieted 
down  for  awhile,  but  our  grim  opponent  had  studied  the 
ground  carefully.  One  morning  without  warning,  he  began 
to  have  a  kiosk  or  pavilion  built,  at  the  angle  of  the  wall 
between  the  premises,  with  two  windows  overlooking  the 
grounds  of  the  mission  schools  where  the  chapel  stood. 
Apparently  this  was  a  trifling  matter,  but  actually  it  was 
a  serious  infringement  of  Mohammedan  law  and  all  Oriental 
usage,  to  have  windows  overlooking  a  neighbors  premises, 
and  it  might  greatly  affect  the  value  of  the  property  own- 
ed by  American  subjects.  I  represented  this  fact,  at  the 
foreign  office,  and  after  some  effort,  procured  a  decree 
that  the  windows  should  be  closed.  This  was  done  very  in- 
effectually with  boards,  a  few  bricks,  which  soon  fell  out — ■ 
and  in  short,  the  matter  finally  had  to  be  brouglit  to  the 


869 


attention  of  the  Shah.  He  appointed  a  committee  of 
three,  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  the  Emin-i-Sultan 
and  the  U.  S.  Minister  to  discuss  a  possible  solution.  I 
suggested  as  a  final  end  to  the  trouble  that  the  Emin-i- 
Sultan  should  buy  the  property,  all  of  it,  on  terms  that 
should  be  mutually  satisfactory,  and  that  the  Shah  should 
then  guarantee  premises  to  the  missionaries,  as  agree- 
able to  them,  but  not  so  near  the  heart  of  the  city ;  and 
that  this  should  be  done  on  terms  which  would  enable 
Americans  to  recoup  themselves,  including  a  permission  to 
build  a  church  there. 

The  Shah  was  delighted  to  have  the  matter  thus  finally 
settled,  and  the  missionaries  liked  it  because  in  this  way, 
they  would  gain  a  distinct  official  footing  in  Persia,  for 
their  work,  and  for  a  church  building. 

Unfortunately  when  the  case  was  finally  presented  to 
the  Emin-i-Sultan,  he  after  some  shifting,  declined  to 
purchase  the  property,  alleging  that  the  terms  of  the  mis- 
sionaries were  too  high,  and  he  soon  after  this  allowed  the 
bricks  to  fall  again  out  of  the  closed  windows.  I  had  a 
serious  talk  with  the  foreign  minister  about  it  and  I 
finally  proposed  a  plan  to  him,  to  distinctly  end  the  mat- 
ter, which  could  only  avail  In  Asiatic  countries  having  a 
theocratic  government. 

The  head  of  the  Persian  Hierarchy  was  called  the  "Chief 
Mushtahed."  His  impartiality  was  assumed  to  be  im- 
peccable, still  it  was  a  hazardous  test  for  the  American 
minister  to  rest  his  case  upon.  There  was  no  telling  what 
intrigue  or  counter-plot  might  be  concocted  between  the 
minister  of  foreign  affairs  and  the  Emin-i-Sultan,  nor 
was  it  certain  that  at  least  two  of  the  foreign  legations 
might  not  be  quite  content  to  see  the  progress  of  Amerl- 


370 


can  missions  in  the  East  retarded.  Of  the  good  faith  of 
the  Shah  I  had  no  doubt  whatever,  but  he  was,  under 
present  circumstances,  not  entirely  master  of  the  situa- 
tion. Rather  to  my  surprise  the  minister  of  foreign  af- 
fairs, readily  accepted  my  suggestion,  and  promised  to  ob- 
tain the  decision  of  the  Chief  Mushtahed  without  delay, 
and  it  was  mutually  agreed  we  should  each  abide  by  this 
decision  as  final. 

The  hope  of  the  contestants  lay  in  continuous  exas- 
perating delay,  as  Oriental  principles  and  usage  were  in- 
volved in  the  question  of  the  open  windows ;  on  the  other 
hand  my  position  was  made  more  difficult  because  the  mis- 
sionaries had  really  violated  rules  and  traditions  of  Per- 
sian law. 

I  decided  I  must  plav  a  trump  card  on  the  result  of 
which,  depended,  perhaps,  my  influence  both  at  Teheran 
and  Washington.  I  had  devised  a  plan  to  fight  the  enemy 
with  his  own  weapons.  To  accomplish  my  end,  I  must  rely 
however,  on  the  native  cunning  and  honor  of  my  Afghan 
moonshee,  whose  courage  and  shrewdness,  fitted  him  to 
be  an  admirable  tool  to  carry  out  my  schemes.  He  knew 
if  he  revealed  my  secret,  he  would  receive  only  punish- 
ment from  the  Persians,  whereas  he  knew  that  any  promise 
I  might  make  him,  he  could  rely  upon,  absolutely.  Asker 
Khan  accepted  my  commission  asking  four  weeks  time, 
which  was  granted.  At  the  end  of  the  time,  he  had  ap- 
parently accomplished  nothing.  "I  gave  you  credit  for 
more  ability,"  I  said  to  him.  "It  is  a  difficult  business," 
he  replied,  "but  I  have  made  some  progress,  will  Your  Ex- 
cellency allow  me  ten  days  more.?"  I  granted  it,  saying  I 
preferred  that  he  should  complete  the  business  if  he 
could.     In  about  a  week,  Asker  Khan,  entered  my  rooms, 


371 


and  with  a  beaming  face  handed  me  the  priceless  docu- 
ment bearing  the  potent  signature  and  seal  of  the  Chief 
Mushtahed,  who  was  the  final  expounder  of  Koranic  law, 
and  before  whose  decisions  Persian  princes  and  potentates 
gave  way.  The  point  at  question  was  decided  in  our  fav- 
or! 

The  day,  after  I  sent  our  dragoman  to  the  foreign 
office  to  ask  the  minister  if  he  had  procured  the  desired 
paper  from  the  chief  ^Mushtahed,  if  not,  would  he  request 
the  1st  secretary  to  call  at  the  U.  S.  legation.  When  he 
arrived,  I  spoke  with  considerable  freedom,  on  the  delay 
of  the  Government  to  get  some  final  decision  on  the 
questions  affecting  so  vitally  American  missionaries,  then 
as  he  was  about  to  leave,  I  handed  him  the  momentous 
paper.  He  looked  quickly  at  the  seal,  examined  the  sig- 
nature with  care  (a  signature  which  could  send  heads  to 
the  block,  or  even  threaten  the  Throne)  and  gasped, 
"Hadji  M'ollah  Allee!  there  is  no  doubt!  it  goes  against 
us."  His  face  fell.  "Your  Excellency  is  to  be  congratu- 
lated," then  he  said  slowly,  "You  have  won  the  game!" 

Oriental  women  receive  much  sympathy  from  their 
western  sisters.  They  have  some  trials,  so  do  the  women 
of  Christian  lands,  but  it  is  a  question,  whether  women  in 
the  East  do  not  enjoy  the  greater  personal  influence  and 
power.  It  was  through  two  Oriental  wives,  that  Asker 
Khan  procured  the  august  signature.  The  women  of 
some  Christian  lands,  are  perhaps  gaining  a  cumulative 
power  that  the  women  of  the  East  do  not  yet  know.  They 
are  gaining  it  by  organization  while  working  together,  but 
I  believe  their  individual  influence  will  thereby  decrease, 
and  the}^  will  have  less  hold  over  the  man.  Something  of 
the  power  and  beauty  of  the  marriage-tie  also  is  failing. 


372 


Possibly  this  is  a  new  phase  of  a  social  evolution,  that  is 
to  lead  to  a  decrease  of  population,  or  the  planet  might 
become  too  small  to  hold  its  inhabitants. 

Meantime  the  Persian  woman  does  not  think  or  worry 
about  these  questions.  She  takes  her  baby,  or  her  em- 
broidery and  goes  to  the  Hmnum  or  public  Bath,  which 
is  a  sort  of  club  or  public  house  for  all  the  women  except 
those  of  high  position.  There  they  exchange  news,  in- 
trigue and  gossip,  (qviite  as  Western  club-women  do).  The 
wife  of  my  moonsJiee  doubtless  went  to  the  Bath  with  the 
important  paper  at  hand,  and  by  abundant  use  of  finesse 
induced  a  friend  of  higher  rank  to  carry  it  on  to  one  yet 
higher,  until  at  last  perhaps  it  reached  the  hands  of  the 
fair  favorite  wife  of  Hadji  Mollah  Alice. 

It  was  a  simple  paper  adroitly  drawn  asking  his  de- 
cision on  a  point  of  Persian  law  which  was  stated — it 
had  apparently  no  special  or  personal  reference,  and  was 
written  informally  in  Persian  on  a  half  sheet  of  paper. 

Two  days  after  its  receipt,  the  foreign  minister  sent 
workmen  to  close  the  windows  of  the  Prince  solidly  with 
stone,  and  thus  the  matter  was  finally  ended.  The  Emin-i- 
Sultan  was  intensely  mortified,  I  was  told,  and  wrote 
a  bitter  letter  to  the  chief  Mushtahed,  who  was  rather 
amused  it  would  seem  by  my  adroitness,  and  expressed  a 
desire  "to  make  my  acquaintance."  This  decision  was 
probably  the  first  favorable  decision,  ever  given  by  this 
^Mohammedan  "Pope"  to  a  foreigner  and  it  was  an  ex- 
tremely hazardous  experiment  for  me  to  rest  my  case 
upon.  He  was  in  fact,  in  his  sole  person  the  equivalent  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  with  all  its  nine 
judges.  But  something  had  to  be  effected  quickly,  to  bring 
a  solution  of  a  deep  laid  plot  against  missionary  inter- 
ests. 

373 


Of  other  cases,  to  which  as  protector  of  American  in- 
terests I  was  called,  one  of  the  most  singular  was  not  that 
of  converts  (many  of  whom  had  appealed  to  me)  but  of 
the  missionaries  themselves  at  Hamadan,  several  hundred 
miles  from  the  capital. 

It  was  not  without  an  element  of  humor,  like  many 
cases  I  had  to  settle  and  was  complicated  by  the  hesita- 
tion of  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  to  offend  those 
near  the  Throne,  a  matter  not  always  fully  appreciated  by 
the  missionaries. 

I  have  a  certain  respect  for  many  Oriental  diplomats. 
They  are  as  astute  as  foxes,  unsurpassed  in  suavity,  and 
not  more  parsimonious  of  truth,  than  Russia  and  other 
Christian  powers.  While  displaying  a  keener  intelli- 
gence than  the  European  diplomat,  they  are  masters  in 
the  art  of  procrastination.  Nor  should  they  be  blamed 
for  this  with  all  the  nations  of  Europe  hammering  at 
their  frontiers,  equipped  with  the  modern  implements  of 
war,  finance,  dissimulation  and  intrigue,  and  uniting  in 
the  game  of  grab  on  the  pretext  of  spreading  commerce, 
disseminating  Christianity,  defending  the  honor  of  the 
flag,  etc.,  etc. 

The  Orientals  have  grown  to  be  suspicious  of  all  Chris- 
tian nations,  to  doubt  all  their  professions,  and  to  de- 
fend themselves  with  the  only  available  weapon  left  to  the 
Asiatic,  in  this  general  scramble — procrastination.  It  is 
this  awful  fear  of  the  advance  and  influence  of  these  per- 
petual foes  of  Asiatic  customs  and  independence  that 
makes  all  Orientals,  of  whatever  faith  or  race,  regard  with 
apprehension  the  progress  of  missionary  effort  in  their 
borders. 


374 


We  call  this  fanaticism.  In  one  sense  it  is  such,  for  it 
proceeds  ostensibly  against  foreigners  who  are  aiming  to 
undermine  the  faiths  of  Eastern  peoples. 

But  in  its  last  analysis  this  fanaticism  takes  its  origin 
in  an  instinct  of  conservation,  or  self-preservation,  because 
church  and  state,  church  and  race,  are  so  inextricably 
interwoven,  it  is  to  threaten  the  dissolution  of  the  entire 
body  politic. 

At  the  time  of  our  arrival  at  Teheran  in  1883,  Persia 
was  still  one  of  the  most  thoroughly  Oriental  nations  left 
to  remind  one  of  ages  almost  lost  in  the  mists  of  a  hoary 
antiquity.  It  was  ancient  in  its  characters,  its  people,  its 
laws,  its  literature,  its  religions,  its  government.  And 
yet  in  the  chief  cities,  and  especially  its  capital,  enough 
of  its  male  citizens,  had  been  out  of  the  country,  to  study 
European  manners,  customs  and  languages,  all  of  which, 
gave  a  sort  of  veneer  of  Occidental  character,  apparent  to 
the  stranger  on  his  first  arrival. 

But  after  awhile,  one  learns  that  such  impressions  of 
the  country  are  superficial,  and  that  no  people  in  Asia  is 
less  changed  in  its  essential  characteristics  than  Persia. 

It  is  still  a  far  away  land,  and  calls  the  traveller  back 
to  the  original  cradle  and  home  of  the  Aryan  races.  None 
but  Aryans  touch  its  frontiers  today,  except  the  mixed 
races  of  Turanian  stock,  Tartars,  and  Turcoman  and 
Semitic  Arabs.  Even  the  eunuchs  of  Persia,  are  for 
the  most  part  white,  picked  up  in  border  raids.  Unlike 
the  Turks  who  gather  wives  from  every  quarter  and  so 
are  a  thoroughly  mixed  people,  the  Persians  barter  their 
wives  from  the  peasant  class  in  Persia  and  thus  nomads  or 
merchants  often  fill  their  harems,  and  purely  Persian  off- 
spring are  the  result.     It  is  this,  which  has  kept  the  race 


375 


of  the  early  Imans  practically  homogeneous,  mind  and 
body,  from  the  time  of  Cyrus  until  now,  with  scarce  any 
mental  or  physical  changes.  Unlike  Turanian  and  Tartar 
races,  they  are  volatile,  quick  tempered,  poetic,  specu- 
lative, intellectual.  These  facts  were  first  impressed  on 
my  observation  when  I  reached  Constantinople.  I  pro- 
ceeded direct  to  that  focus  of  influence  in  order  to  gather 
certain  special  information  before  proceeding  farther 
East,  and  found  it  to  be  of  great  advantage,  especially  in 
meeting  officials  representing  at  the  gateway  of  the  Orient 
the  legations  of  Persia  and  Russia,  whose  governments  are 
looking  at  each  other  over  the  border  line ;  one,  on  the  de- 
fensive, fighting  for  her  life,  by  finesse  and  diplomacy,  and 
the  other,  preparing  to  give  the  coup  de  grace,  if  Kismet 
or  the  Fates,  permit. 

We  all  passed  a  delightful  day  with  Gen.  and  Mrs. 
Lew  Wallace  at  their  pleasant  home  on  the  Bosphorus 
en  route  to  Persia,  and  his  experience  in  dealing  with  both 
Oriental  and  missionaries  interested  me  greatly. 

Gen.  Wallace  was  a  fine  looking,  rather  large  man  of 
quiet  manners,  not  a  great  talker  except  when  specially 
drawn  out — and  his  wife  a  woman  of  excellent  good  sense. 
We  saw  them  often,  and  I  had  many  a  pleasant  talk  at 
that  time  with  the  famous  author  of  Ben  Hur,  then  minis- 
ter to  Turkey. 

We  both  agreed,  that  the  Aryan  and  Turanian  races 
seem  to  have  left  traces  of  two  distinct  civilizations,  mer- 
ging somewhat  at  a  later  period  as  for  example  did  the  Mo- 
hammedans and  the  Persians,  although  intensely  and  fur- 
iously opposed,  in  matters  of  religion.  The  Persians  of  old 
were,  after  the  Hellenes,  the  most  remarkable  and  civilized 
people  of  Asiatic  antiquity,  at  the  same  time  they  were 


376 


incredibly  cruel.  While  this  temperment  is  somewhat 
modified  of  late  years,  it  is  regrettable  that  amid  so  many 
elements  of  genius,  it  still  crops  out  at  times.  At  the 
present  time  it  is  well  nigh  impossible  to  reconcile  un- 
controlled and  fiery  temper  with  an  active  and  highly 
civilized  people.  But  we  see  something  of  such  extremes 
displayed  by  the  French,  perhaps  the  most  brilliant  people 
in  history,  since  the  Athenian  Republic  retired  from  its 
amazing  supremacy.  French  civilization  has  always  been 
marked  by  such  extremes. 


377 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

SOCIETY  AND  DIPLOMACY. 

In  the  case  of  the  difficulties  and  outrages  at  Hamadan, 
the  opposition  came  simultaneously  from  several  quarters. 
Armenians,  Jews  and  Persians  were  united  in  their  ob- 
jection to  the  proselyting  and  schools  of  the  American 
missionaries  in  that  district.  If  there  were  others  they 
covered  their  tracks.  This  gave  the  movement  great 
strength,  which  was  reinforced  by  the  fact  that  the  people 
there,  knew  or  cared  nothing  for  the  United  States  of 
America  as  such;  they  thought  they  could  persecute  with 
impunity.  It  now  became  my  duty  to  disabuse  their 
minds  of  this  pious  impression.  Another  fact  was  that  a 
younger  brother  of  Nasr-ed-Deen  Shah,  an  intense,  al- 
though an  intelligent  fanatic,  was  governor  of  the 
province.  There,  he  ruled,  through  his  son,  a  youth  of  six- 
teen. Added  to  this  powerful  group  of  enemies  to  the  mis- 
sionaries, there  was  the  conservatism  of  the  then  minister 
of  foreign  affairs,  Mirza  Scyed  Khan,  who  could  not,  in 
tlie  presence  of  the  Diplomatic  Corps,  display  his  ani- 
mosity, but  imagined  that  at  a  distant  post,  disturbances 
against  the  missionaries  might  be  unnoticed,  that  could 
not  pass  unchallenged  at  Teheran. 

378 


I  must  add  that  personally  I  liked  Mirza  Seyed  Khan. 
He  was  a  gentleman  in  manners,  of  good  disposition,  and 
of  scholarly  tastes,  and  when  a  diplomatic  conference  was 
ended,  we  sometimes  enjoyed  a  discussion  on  Oriental  lit- 
erature. Although  I  had  to  express  myself  with  emphasis 
sometimes,  in  regard  to  our  affairs,  it  was  difficult  for  me 
personally  to  feel  otherwise  than  pleasantly  towards  this 
fine  gentleman  of  the  old  school.  Perhaps  my  sympathies 
in  his  favor  were  more  lively,  because  he  was  old  and  feeble ; 
indeed  he  died  when  I  had  been  only  one  year  in  Persia, 
and  I  was  the  only  foreign  minister  at  Teheran  who 
broke  through  the  reserve  they  generally  maintain  towards 
Orientals  on  such  occasions,  and  I  sent  my  moonshee  in  our 
carriage  to  represent  the  legation  at  the  funeral,  and 
afterwards  called  personally  on  his  son ;  courtesies  which 
Avere  sincerely  appreciated  by  the  family  and  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  Shah. 

The  disturbances  at  Hamadan  began  by  the  seizure  of 
a  church  building.  It  belonged  to  an  Armenian  congrega- 
tion of  which  the  majority  had  become  Protestants.  This 
fact  had  led  the  American  missionaries  at  Teheran  to  loan 
them  250  tomans — about  400  dollars — during  the  season 
of  famine ;  the  missionaries  were  to  have  possession  and 
undisputed  use  of  the  building  at  least  until  the  money 
was  repaid.  After  several  years  six  members  of  the 
original  congregation  who  remained  in  the  old  faith,  be- 
gan to  feel  their  dislike  of  Protestants  overpower  the 
sense  of  their  obligations  to  the  missionaries,  who  had 
helped  them  in  the  hour  of  trial.  Urged  on  by  other 
Armenians  in  Hamadan,  they  appealed  to  the  Armenian 
bishop    of   Ispahan.       The   bishop    in    turn    appealed    to 


379 


Mirza  Achmet,  practically  governor  though  nominally  pre- 
ceptor of  the  so-called  Little  Prince. 

The  fanaticism  of  Mirza  Achmet  took  fire  at  this  op- 
portunity, quickened  doubtless  by  a  little  money.  He  de- 
spised the  Armenians  but  he  hated  the  missionaries  more. 
The  former  were  giours,  it  is  true.  But  at  any  rate  they 
were  subjects,  and  might  be  bastinadoed  and  beheaded 
without  interference. 

Although  very  serious,  the  determination  and  audacity 
of  the  leaders  of  this  plot  were  deliciously  exhilarating, 
more  so  to  me,  probably  than  to  the  good  missionaries 
who  were  actually  in  danger. 

This  began  about  the  time  the  United  States  legation 
was  being  established  at  Teheran.  The  first  and  easiest 
form  of  attack  was  to  resume  possession  of  the  church 
notwithstanding  the  loan  upon  it  and  carry  off  the  keys, 
no  attention  being  given  to  the  demand  for  the  return 
either  of  building  or  money.  The  hot  season  had  now  be- 
gun, and  for  several  months  I  was  occupied  with  getting 
settled  and  arranging  the  numerous  matters  brought  to 
my  attention  in  establishing  an  entirely  new  legation. 

In  the  meantime,  taking  advantage  of  these  circum- 
stances, Mirza  Achmet  and  his  cabal,  were  bringing  the 
conspiracy  to  a  head.  I  must  say  here  that  the  course  of 
the  missionaries  at  Hamadan  and  the  meekness  and 
patience  they  displayed  were  beyond  praise.  They  never 
indicated  the  slightest  doubt  of  the  zeal  of  the  legation  in 
behalf  of  the  American  citizens. 

The  outrages  at  Hamadan  having  started  well  with 
the  seizure  of  the  church,  Hirza  Achmet  proceeded  to  in- 
vade the  mission  premises,  seized  the  school  buildings, 
drove  off  the  pupils  and  carried  away  the  keys.    Then  he 


380 


ordered  the  owner  of  the  dwellmgs  they  occupied  to  be 
bastinadoed.  Then  he  proceeded,  all  in  due  order,  to  take 
written  pledges,  from  artisans  of  all  sorts  not  to  work  for 
the  missionaries  and  drove  away  their  servants.  He  ended 
by  getting  iltisames  from  tradesmen  not  to  sell  them  fuel, 
or  any  of  the  ordinary  necessaries  of  life,  ending  by  for- 
bidding anyone,  under  pain  of  punishment,  even  to  sell 
any  manner  of  food  to  the  American  citizens,  and  remov- 
ed the  telegraph  operator,  thus  impeding  communications 
with  the  United  States  legation  and  the  outside  world.  It 
was  only  by  using  the  vigilance  of  the  people  of  a  belea- 
guered town  that  our  citizens  were  able  to  smuggle  small 
supplies  of  the  necessaries  of  life  within  their  premises. 

xVt  this  point,  laying  aside  other  business,  and  having 
exhausted  all  efforts  at  the  foreign  office,  I  felt  that  the 
hour  had  come  to  take  active  measures  to  bring  the  au- 
thorities and  people  of  Hamadan  to  a  sense  of  what  it 
means  to  trifle  with  American  citizens,  w^hethei  lay  or 
clerical.  For  several  -months  I  had  remonstr;ite(l  with 
Mirza  Seyed  Khan.  He  palavered  abundantly,  denied  the 
reports,  and  promised  to  put  an  end  to  the  "alleged  dis- 
turbances," closing  each  interview  with  charming  suavity, 
and  the  most  fragrant  coffee  and  tobacco,  served  with 
jewelled  kalians.     It  all  ended  literally  in  smoke. 

Finally  I  decided  on  a  measure  which  I  was  aware  could 
not  to  be  considered  quite  permissible  in  diplomatic  pro- 
cedure at  European  courts,  but  was  justified  when  pos- 
sible, at  an  Oriental  court,  whose  methods  differ  widely 
from  the  normal  usages  of  Christendom.  It  required  reso- 
lution, resource,  and  courage;  but  I  felt  particularly  justi- 
fied on  this  occasion  because  the  missionaries  at  Hamadan 
had  made  no  efforts  to  Christianize  ^lohammedans,  which 


381 


was  very  gratifying  to  me,  as  my  views  on  this  point  were 
firmly  opposed  to  the  practice. 

I  ordered  Mr.  Keiin,  our  dragoman  or  first  secretary 
as  he  practically  was  at  our  legation,  to  prepare  to  start 
on  the  following  day  for  Hamadan  with  a  Persian  of  rare 
fitness  for  anything  that  called  for  courage.  As  to  Mr. 
Keiin,  he  was  exceptionally  fitted  to  aid  me.  He  was  born 
in  Smyrna  of  good  family,  of  adventurous  spirit,  he  had 
drifted  to  Persia.  He  was  one  who  commanded  interest 
from  the  first  glance.  If  he  had  lived,  I  am  sure  he  would 
have  won  high  distinction,  if  not  in  Asia  then  in  the  West. 
He  was  about  twenty-five  years  old,  could  speak  six 
languages  fluently,  was  straight  as  an  arrow,  supple  as  a 
bow,  with  the  manners  of  a  gentleman  and  the  bearing  of  a 
soldier  of  high  breeding.  The  journey  was  taken  for 
the  most  part  by  night,  as  was  usual  at  that  season.  Es- 
caping safely  from  a  brush  with  robbers,  Mr.  Keiin  final- 
ly reached  Hamadan.  He  found  Mirza  Achmet  and  his 
followers  totally  unprepared  fov  such  an  unexpected 
event,  surly  and  insolent,  and  refusing  at  first  even  to 
admit  him  to  the  audience  hall.  Well  conversant  with  the 
Persian  character,  Mr.  Keiin  held  his  head  high,  as  one 
who  represented  a  great  power.  This  course  finally 
brought  the  Little  Prince  and  Mirza  Achmet  to  a  growing 
consciousness  that  something  was  to  be  done.  Mr.  Keiin 
was  granted  an  interview  and  he  laid  matters  before  them 
in  a  manner  that  made  them  wince. 

Having  once  begun  to  yield,  the  authorities  ended  by 
conceding  about  all  that  he  demanded.  The  iltisames  were 
given  up  to  him,  the  keys  to  the  missionary  premises  and 
of  the  church  aforesaid.  Several  of  the  persecutors  were 
also  flogged  for   doing  exactly   what  Mirza  Achmet  had 


382 


commanded  them  to  do,  the  American  citizens  and  their 
converts  were  in  the  future  to  be  unmolested,  both  as  to 
their  persons  and  property,  and  all  outrages  should  cease 
thenceforth.  The  only  concession  we  were  willing  to 
grant  was  as  to  the  money  due  for  the  church.  Ready 
money  being  scarce,  as  it  is  apt  to  be  in  the  East,  I  directed 
Mr,  Keiin  to  grant  them  a  renewal  of  the  mortgage  for  a 
stated  period.  We  could  afford  this  concession  under  the 
circumstances.  This  much  having  been  accomplished,  Mr. 
Keiin  was  directed  by  telegraph  to  return  to  Teheran. 
In  honor  of  the  man  he  proved  to  be,  and  the  power  he  rep- 
resented, of  which  they  had  now  obtained  new  light,  the 
authorities  actually  escorted  him  on  horseback  to  the  out- 
skirts of  Hamadan. 

For  several  months  comparative  peace  reigned  at  Hama- 
dan, although  I  was  convinced  that  sooner  or  later  a  new 
plot  was  liable  to  break  out  in  some  form  or  another  so 
long  as  Mirza  Achmet,  the  arch  demon  of  the  play,  was 
permitted  to  remain  in  power. 

My  expectations  proved  eventually  correct,  and  I  then 
laid  a  formal  demand  at  the  foreign  office  for  the  re- 
moval and  disgrace  of  Mirza  Achmet.  The  demand  was 
met  with  the  usual  procrastination,  and  I  forthwith  pre- 
pared for  more  urgent  methods  to  stop  the  Hamadan  out- 
rages, when  an  altogether  unexpected  and  startling  inci- 
dent gave  me  the  weather-gage  in  the  struggle,  and  a  com- 
plete triumph. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  12th  of  June  I  was  returning 
from  Teheran  to  Arajeb,  our  summer  quarters  at  the  vil- 
lage of  Djafferabad,  in  our  carriage,  a  plain  open 
barouche.  My  young  daughter  accompanied  me.  It  was 
a  slow  ride  of  twelve  miles  up  a  gradual  slope  that  led  to 

383 
25 


the  cooler  region  of  the  Shimran.  We  were  accompanied 
by  two  outriders  the  usual  protection  on  ordinary  occa- 
sions. Both  the}^  and  the  coachman,  all  Persians,  wore  the 
simple  livery  of  our  legation,  navy  blue  and  a  silver  star 
on  the  conical  cap  of  black  lambskin. 

On  approaching  the  wayside  waiting  place  where  travel- 
lers stopped  for  a  pipe,  a  cup  of  tea,  or  a  cluster  of 
grapes,  while  the  horses  were  drenched  in  the  roadside 
brook,  under  the  plane  trees,  I  became  aware  of  a  long 
train  of  old-fashioned  coaches  painted  blue  and  gold  and 
drawn  by  four  horses  each.  They  were  so  foreshortened 
in  perspective,  and  hazy  in  the  twinkling  shadows  that  I 
did  not  realize  at  first  the  character  of  this  procession.  It 
proved  to  be  a  train  of  the  Shah's  wives.  Several  Euro- 
peans were  waiting  near  us  for  these  royal  ladies  to  finish 
their  refreshments  before  they  could  proceed. 

For  ages  it  has  been  and  may  still  be,  for  aught  I  know, 
"a  law  of  the  Medes  and  Persians  which  changeth  not," 
that  no  one  shall  pass  the  King's  wives  on  the  road,  and 
if  any  one  meets  them,  he  must  either  face  the  other  way 
or  turn,  if  possible,  into  another  street  or  by-way.  The 
day  is  still  within  the  memory  of  some  living,  when  any 
helpless  individual  caught  looking  or  crossing  the  road 
in  front  of  them  has  been  slaughtered  on  the  spot.  While 
of  course  yielding  the  precedent  to  the  Shah  himself, 
the  Legations  at  Teheran  had  for  some  time  claimed  the 
right  to  keep  straight  on,  when  meeting  his  wives,  who 
are  a  step  below  the  throne,  and  the  claim  had  been  tacit- 
ly allowed  to  foreign  ministers  for  some  years. 

On  this  occasion  we  were  much  surprised  to  see  a 
squadron  of  the  royal  guards  spur  their  horses  from 
each  side  of  the  road  and  fly  at  my  outriders  who   im- 


384 


mediately  yelled,  "The  American  minister  is  in  the  car- 
riage !"  This  did  not  seem  to  produce  the  effect  desired 
for  the  troopers  continued  to  bear  down  on  my  outriders, 
striving  to  arrest  them ;  my  men  in  the  meantime,  resisting 
with  admirable  pluck.  Then  my  carriage  itself  was  at- 
tacked. I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  Captain's  position  as, 
mounted  on  a  fiery  gray  steed,  and  with  tawny  beard  and 
flashing  eyes,  he  vainly  strove  to  check  the  wild  dash  of 
my  black  Afghans  as  they  flew  past  the  carriages  of  the 
royal  wives  until  he  was  forced  to  let  go,  to  save  himself 
from  being  hurled  under  their  hoofs. 

Although  armed  I  felt  that  it  was  sufficient  to  leave 
my  gallant  attendants  the  task  of  extricating  us  from  the 
difficulty  by  keeping  straight  on,  until  the  royal  cortege 
was  passed,  so  long  as  no  deliberate  personal  violence  was 
offered  to  the  occupants  of  the  carriage,  or  that  my  own 
horses  did  not  get  away  from  control  and  hurl  us  into  the 
road.  I  felt  that  I  must  exercise  coolness  in  order  to 
avoid  a  catastrophe.  My  little  daughter  fortunate- 

ly remained  quite  calm,  uttering  not  a  word,  although 
naturally  excited  by  the  alarming  spectacle  of  a  troop  of 
mounted  soldiers  dashing  furiously  around  her  with 
raised  sabres  and  furious  yells. 

What  might  have  been  the  ultimate  result  of  the  melee 
I  do  not  care  to  speculate  about,  for  before  matters  became 
more  serious,  a  head  eunuch,  despatched  with  orders  from 
the  chief  wife  of  the  Shah,  dispersed  the  cavalry,  and  es- 
corted us  clear  of  the  royal  train. 

When  we  had  passed  the  vanguard  of  cavalry,  I  called 
a  halt  under  the  trees,  to  give  the  officers  an  opportunity 
to  come  up  and  speak  to  me,  if  they  had  any  explanations 
or  apologies  to  offer.     But  they  did  not  do  so,  and  this 


385 


error  on  their  part  led  to  serious  consequences.  My  men 
behaved  admirably.  But  for  their  courage  we  might  have 
come  out  of  the  encounter  with  less  credit  and  comfort. 
But  they  knew  from  previous  experience  in  the  United 
States  legation,  what  was  to  be  expected  of  them.  After 
we  reached  home  I  gave  each  of  them  a  liberal  present  as 
evidence  of  approval  of  their  conduct  in  a  situation  of 
some  gravity. 

In'  such  emergencies,  time  is  everything.  Therefore 
after  dinner  I  sat  down  and  wrote  a  brief  statement  of  the 
incident  to  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  whose  summer 
residence  was  near,  demanding  satisfaction  but  in  general 
terms,  I  avoided  stating  a  precise  form  of  redress,  in  order 
to  leave  the  Persian  government  to  act  in  the  matter  with 
an  appearance  of  spontaneity.  The  n«te  must  be  despatch- 
ed without  delay  to  forestall  any  complaint  on  their  part. 
Asker  Khan,  our  moonsliee,  already  well  known  in  these 
pages,  however  made  a  Persian  translation  which  was  at- 
tached to  the  note,  both  were  taken  by  him  across  the 
brawling  brook  in  the  ravine  at  half  past  ten  that  same 
evening  to  Mahmood  Khan,  the  successor  to  the  late 
minister  of  foreign  affairs.  On  reading  the  note,  he  was 
sharp  enough  to  say  to  the  moonshee  that  he  would  like 
to  see  my  coachman  and  outriders  on  the  following  morn- 
ing. Asker  Khan  proved  faithful  to  our  interests,  and 
reported  to  me  exactly  what  the  minister  had  said ;  on 
hearing  this  I  forbade  the  men  to  stir  out  of  the  lega- 
tion. I  did  not  propose  to  have  Mahmood  Khan  lecture 
my  servants  for  doing  their  duty,  or  trying  to  frighten 
or  bribe  them  to  bear  false  testimony. 

No  official  reply  to  my  note  had  been  received  from 
the    foreign    office   when    the    minister    of    foreign    affairs 


386 


and  the  diplomatic  corps  met  the  United  States  lega- 
tion at  Djafferabad  at  breakfast.  Of  course  no  allusion 
was  made  openly  to  the  question  at  issue.  But  several  of 
the  foreign  envoys  said  to  me  privately  that  they  were 
read}'  to  back  me  in  my  demands,  as  the  affair  practically 
concerned  the  prestige  and  standing  of  all  the  legations  at 
Teheran. 

After  the  guests  had  left  I  despatched  our  drago- 
mmu  Mr.  Keiin,  to  the  English  minister,  the  dean  of  the 
diplomatic  corps  at  the  time,  to  ask  how  far  I  should  be 
justified  in  forcing  this  business  on  the  attention  of  the 
Persian  government.  He  replied  that  there  was  only  one 
course  to  take,  if  I  felt  strong  enough,  in  the  backing  of 
my  own  government,  to  carry  out  the  plan  consistently, 
otherwise  it  would  have  to  be  transferred  to  Washington. 
I  knew  full  well  what  the  latter  implied.  I  was  not  al- 
lowed a  cipher  like  the  other  legations.  A  long  telegraph 
message  would  not  be  approved,  and  a  short  one  would  not 
answer.  If  I  depended  on  the  mails,  at  least  ninety  days 
would  be  probably  required  before  reply.  I  seriously  ques- 
tioned too,  whether  any  grit  would  be  shown  by  the  Home 
department,  and  anyway  the  question  by  that  time  would 
be  cold,  and  past  reviving.  Hence,  at  the  great  risk  of 
failure  and  of  being  disallowed  by  the  State  department, 
I  determined  on  a  manly,  swift  and  decisive  action,  willing 
to  sacrifice  myself  in  the  cause  of  what  I  considered  to 
be  manifest  duty.  On  the  other  hand,  if  I  succeeded,  I 
knew  that  it  would  help  American  influence  and  prestige 
in  Persia. 

Immediately  on  Mr.  Keiin's  return  from  the  British 
legation,  therefore,  I  sent  word  to  the  minister  of  for- 
eign affairs  that  the  I^ited  States  dragoman  desired  to 
call  on  him,  and  asked  him  to  name  the  hour.     Reply  was 

387 


received  that  the  mmister  was  asleep  and  could  not  be 
disturbed. 

Mr.  Keiin,  after  a  second  attempt  with  a  similar  result, 
was  now  directed  to  go  to  the  house  of  the  minister  of 
foreign  affairs  himself,  and  ask  to  be  admitted.  If  he 
was  refused,  then  he  was  to  send  in  word  that  I  should  at 
once  haul  down  the  United  States  flag.  Mahmood  Khan 
ordered  Mr.  Keiin  to  be  shown  into  the  reception  room. 

"Your  Excellency,"  said  Mr.  Keiin,  "has  been  long 
enough  connected  with  state  aifairs  and  diplomatic  life  to 
understand  that  this  is  not  an  ordinary  case.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  one  of  those  cases  which  do  not  permit  long 
investigations  nor  evasions,  but  requires  prompt  and 
adequate  adjustment." 

"That  is  what  you  say,"  replied  the  minister.  "But 
we  have  to  make  inquiries  ;  find  out  the  offenders.  How  do 
you  expect  us  to  punish  our  people  without  carefully 
looking  at  all  the  facts.^" 

"Your  Excellency,"  replied  Mr.  Keiin,  "the  word  of 
the  United  States  minister  is  at  issue  in  your  remarks. 
He  says  he  was  attacked  by  government  troops ;  the  af- 
fair occurred  in  broad  daylight  on  a  public  highway,  and, 
as  if  to  aggravate  it,  his  daughter  was  with  him  and  might 
have  lost  her  life  in  the  melee." 

"What  do  you  want.f""  said  Mahmood  Khan. 

"I  am  instructed  to  say  to  your  Excellency  that  we 
shall  be  satisfied  if,  first,  we  have  a  written  apology  from 
the  foreign  office;  and  second,  if  the  men,  including  their 
captain,  who  made  the  attack  are  punished  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  member  of  the  United  States  legation ;  and, 
third,  if  the  colonel  of  the  guards  comes  to  the  legation 
and  apologizes  to  the  minister  in  person  ;  and  fourth,  if  a 


388 


member  of  the  Cabinet  comes  to  the  legation  and  offers  the 
personal  regrets  of  His  Majesty  the  Shah." 

"I  will  speak  to  His  Majesty  about  this.  I  will  report 
the  conditions  you  suggest,  and  will  reply  in  due  time," 
said  the  minister. 

"But,  your  Excellency,  I  am  instructed  to  add  that  it 
is  now  over  forty  hours  since  my  minister  sent  his  note, 
and  no  official  reply  has  as  yet  been  received.  I  am  there- 
fore instructed  to  add,  that  if  we  do  not  have  satisfac- 
tion in  thirty-six  hours,  the  minister  will  haul  down  his 
flag." 

"Thirty-six  hours  !  Haul  down  the  flag !  What  do  you 
mean  by  that.''"  gasped  Mahmood  Khan. 

"Your  Excellency,"  replied  the  dragoman,  "is  too  well 
versed  in  diplomacy  to  require  an  explanation  of  these 
phases.  It  means  if  his  request  is  not  granted,  the  Ameri- 
can minister  intends  to  cease  diplomatic  relations." 

At  eleven  o'clock  A.  M.  I  received  a  formal  call  from 
the  Sani-e-Dowleh,  a  member  of  the  Cabinet,  as  minis- 
ter of  the  Press,  who  stated  that  he  had  been  ordered  by 
the  Shall  to  call  on  me  and  express  personally  the  regrets 
of  His  Majesty,  for  the  untoward  incident  of  the  12th. 
inst.,  and  to  ask  me  what  were  precisely  my  terms.  I  re- 
plied, a  written  apology  from  the  foreign  ofiice,  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  men  who  attacked  me,  including  their  cap- 
tain and  an  apology  in  person  from  the  commander  of  the 
Corps  of  Imperial  Guards.  In  the  evening  came  a  quaint, 
pleasantly  couched  note  from  the  minister  of  foreign 
affairs  conveying  the  regret  of  His  Majesty  and  his 
Cabinet.  In  this  note  he  requested  our  moonshee  to  visit 
him  on  the  following  day  and  arrange  for  the  punishment 
of  the  offending  guards.     I  would  have  been  glad  to  have 


389 


omitted  this  ceremony  altogether,  If  they  had  not  acted 
contrary  to  their  Intelligence  and  Information. 

At  nine  the  following  morning  Asker  Khan  was  sent  for 
from  the  palace  with  two  of  the  men  who  were  with  me  on 
the  day  of  the  attack.  Five  of  the  guards  and  their  cap- 
tain were  then  bastinadoed  in  presence  of  Asker  Khan  and 
my  men,  but  this  was  done  very  lightly,  according  to  my 
orders. 

On  the  following  afternoon  an  officer  ranking  as  major, 
who  was  Shah  Gada  or  scion  of  blood  royal,  called  at  the 
legation,  personally  to  apologize  for  the  troops,  and  to 
deprecate  any  further  displeasure  on  my  part.  I  received 
him  standing,  accepted  his  apology,  and  ordered  him  a 
cup  of  tea. 

The  following  day  I  called  on  Mahmood  Khan,  the 
minister  of  foreign  affairs,  and  acknowledged  my  per- 
sonal and  official  satisfaction  with  the  way  that  my  rep- 
resentations had  been  met.  In  the  afternoon  I  further 
acknowledged  by  letter  the  receipt  of  the  note  of  apology, 
and  reiterated  the  gratification  of  my  government  with 
the  high  cordiality  shown  by  His  Majesty,  Nasr  ed-Deen 
Shah,  In  the  settlement  of  the  question.  This  closed  the 
incident. 

The  United  States  government  highly  approved,  but  did 
not  yet  offer  me  a  separate  mail  pouch,  as  In  the  case  of 
other  legations  at  Teheran.  Several  times  I  availed  myself 
of  the  courtesy  of  the  British  minister  to  send  Important 
despatches  by  his  official  courier ;  but,  of  course,  I  could 
only  avail  myself  of  this  privilege,  on  unusual  occasions. 

The  results  In  this  affair  of  the  Guards  soon  became 
apparent.  I  was  given  to  understand  that  the  standing 
of  the  entire  diplomatic   corps  at  Teheran  had  been  ad- 


390 


vanced  by  our  action  on  this  occasion.  Our  own  aifairs 
at  the  court  certainly  moved  with  less  friction.  Invita- 
tions to  A'isit  the  ladies  at  the  Royal  Anderoon  were  re- 
peatedly extended  to  my  family  and  official  audiences  for 
the  transaction  of  important  questions  were  readily  grant- 
ed. Instead  of  displaying  any  coldness,  Nasr-ed-Deen 
Shah  was,  if  possible,  more  affable  and  confidential  than 
ever  before. 

The  disturbances  at  Hamadan,  which  had  been  now 
quiescent  for  ten  months,  having  broken  out  again  I  laid 
the  matter  before  His  Majesty  directly,  and  immedia^te 
and  stringent  orders  were  given  in  my  presence  that  tran- 
quility should  be  restored  at  once.  When  the  term  Hake- 
man  is  employed  as  in  this  case,  in  a  royal  mandate,  it  is 
final,  and  he  who  trifles  with  it  imperils  his  head  What 
was  greatly  to  my  satisfaction  was  that  Mirza  Achmet, 
the  arch  instrument  of  mischief,  was  dismissed,  and  the 
money  owing  to  the  missionaries  was  now  paitl  by  the 
Shahee. 

The  effect  of  this  memorable  visit  was  immediately  ap- 
parent. Orders  were  sent  without  the  usual  delays.  Our 
citizens  were  put  in  possession  of  their  property,  the  gover- 
nor of  the  district  was  recalled,  the  iltisames  were  given 
back,  and  the  poor  landlord  who  had  already  been  flogged 
on  the  soles  of  his  feet  for  letting  the  property  to  Ameri- 
cans, was  forced  to  apologize  for  doing  what  he  had  been 
punished  for,  and  to  declare  that  he  had  been  born  in  an  un- 
lucky hour.  Another  affair  was  terminated  satisfac- 
torily within  five  weeks  from  the  time  complaint  was  first 
made.  The  missionaries  of  Oroomieh  were  so  pleased  that 
they  honored  me  with  a  special  vote  of  thanks  for  efficient 
action. 


391 


It  is  worthy  of  observation  here  that  during  these  and 
other  transactions  with  the  Persian  government  the  re- 
lations between  Nasr-e-Deen  and  'his  cabinet  and  the 
first  minister  of  the  United  States  were  not  only  friendly 
but  cordial  and  continued  so  during  my  entire  stay  in 
Persia;  notwithstanding  that  I  was  sometimes  obliged  to 
proceed  with  considerable  earnestness.  I  think  this  was 
due  in  part  to  our  having  no  aggressive  aims  there,  no  am- 
bitions beyond  establishing  trade,  protecting  Americans, 
and  extending  our  influence. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  official  life  at 
Teheran  was  the  diplomatic  entertainments  between  the 
legations  at  which  Persians  of  distinction  often  sat  down 
with  Europeans. 

One  of  the  most  important  entertainments  it  was  my 
fortune  to  give  at  the  legation,  was  one  at  which  some  of 
the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  realm  were  present,  and  only 
one  European  besides  the  host.  After  sending  out  the  in- 
vitations I  became  aware  that  I  had  a  very  difficult  prob- 
lem before  me.  Each  one  must  be  awarded  his  seat  exactly 
in  accordance  with  his  official  rank.  The  Persian  court 
is  one  of  the  most  punctilious  in  the  world.  I  resolved  to 
take  advice  of  a  very  astute  and  prominent  dignitary  of 
the  court  who,  being  confined  to  his  room  was  unable  to 
attend  the  dinner.  My  moonshee  called  on  him  with  my 
compliments  and  laid  the  matter  before  him. 

"I  do  not  wonder  the  minister  hesitates  in  arranging 
these  plans.  Even  I,  may  make  a  mistake.  Therefore,  if 
I  help  you  I  must  have  your  positive  assurance,  on  no 
account  must  my  name  be  mixed  up  with  the  business." 
He  then  gave  himself  to  the  task,  which  he  declared  to  be 
equal  to  a  deep  game  of  chess. 


392 


It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  the  banquet  passed  off 
without  a  single  hitch.  The  lantern  which  glowed  on  the 
top  of  our  flagstaff  gleamed  till  a  late  hour.  "How  did  your 
minister  manage  to  seat  us  all  so  suitably  to  our  indi- 
vidual rank.f"'  inquired  one  of  the  guests.  Asker  Khan  re- 
plied with  a  mysterious  smile,  "Our  minister  is  equal  to 
the  occasion." 

Apropos  of  this  subject  of  entertaining  and  the  social 
life  at  Teheran  I  must  say  here,  that  the  ministers  gave 
dinners,  banquets,  musicales,  every  week  or  so.  I  am  re- 
minded here  also  of  a  unique  dinner  given  to  myself  and 
family,  by  Nasiri  Dowleh,  son-in-law  of  His  Majesty 
Nasr-ed-Deen  Shah.  As  it  was  given  by  orders  of  the 
King,  he  was  practically  our  host,  although  not  himself 
visible  on  that  occasion.  The  entertainment  was  in  every 
respect  in  the  native  style  except  that  instead  of  being 
served  on  the  embroidered  rugs,  spread  on  the  floor  and 
backed  by  cushions,  according  to  Persian  custom,  we  sat 
around  the  table,  which  was  in  the  carved  and  decorated 
banqueting  apartment.  Everything  was  according  to  the 
sumptuous  style  practiced  in  Persia  for  ages.  The  var- 
ious dishes  laid  before  us,  roasts,  entremets,  soups,  sweets 
and  cordials  served  on  the  rarest  of  china  and  gold,  were 
superb.  But  the  most  interesting  incident  of  this  enter- 
tainment, was  the  fact  that  His  Majesty  and  his  favorite 
wife  and  attendants  were  witnesses  of  the  scene,  observ- 
ing us  through  carved  lattice  screens  in  the  gallery.  Oc- 
casionally we  heard  low  whispering,  and  after  we  returned 
to  the  legation  we  were  informed  of  the  details  of  the 
royal  compliment  by  which  the  Shah  had  lionored  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  United  States. 


393 


The  United  States  legation  during  our  second  summer 
in  Persia  was  isolated  by  several  miles  from  the  other 
legations,  and,  if  I  remember  rightly  Ave  were  the  only 
foreigners  passing  the  summer  at  Djafferabad.  But  for 
the  fact  that  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs  also  had  his 
place  at  that  village  we  should  have  been  without  any  val- 
uable protection  at  our  summer  home. 

The  grounds  of  the  legation  were  quite  extensive.  They 
were  enclosed  by  a  wall.  The  cluster  of  graceful  adobe 
buildings  decorated  with  porticoes  of  gatch  or  plaster  of 
paris  stood  near  the  center  on  the  two  upper  terraces, 
three  in  all.  They  were  approached  from  the  main  en- 
trance through  a  winding  avenue  of  chenars  trimmed  to  re- 
semble large  poplars.  Ranks  of  the  same  trees  were  ar- 
ranged in  platoons  at  the  rear  of  the  buildings.  Behind 
these,  rose  the  grand  precipices  of  the  Elburz  mountains 
to  a  height  of  13,000  feet.  The  water  used  for  irrigation 
ran  in  stone  channels  through  the  terraces  filling  several 
large  circular  tanks,  in  the  center  of  which  were  spouts 
that  tossed  the  water  in  silvery  clouds  of  cooling  spray. 
This  artificial  stream  finally  coursed  under  our  dining- 
room,  and  emerged  beneath  the  windows  in  a  cascade  that 
carried  the  water  to  the  adjoining  grounds.  Our  living 
rooms  were  around  this  court  connected  by  a  private  way. 

The  pavilion  assigned  to  the  business  of  the  legation  in 
summer,  stood  alone  with  its  row  of  white  pillars  on  the 
highest  terrace.  From  our  porches  we  could  look  for 
fifty  or  sixty  miles  over  and  beyond  the  city  of  Teheran 
and  the  vast  plateau  reaching  through  haze  and  mirage  two 
hundred  leagues  to  the  Persian  Gulf. 

During  the  day  the  southwest  breeze,  like  a  trade  wind, 
soughed  in  the  groves  that  waved  majestically  around  us. 


394 


At  night  the  moon  in  cloudless  sky  bathed  the  white  build- 
ings in  light,  and  the  scene  was  like  fairy  land.  Then  the 
winds  slept,  and  the  nightingales  began  their  delicious 
improvisations,  and  throughout  the  night  continued  tlie 
chorus  of  liquid  song.  The  name  of  the  place  was  Arajeb 
but  we  liked  to  call  it  Nightingale  Park. 

Amid  the  entrancing  delights  of  this  seemingly  ideal 
Persian  home  we  were  constrained  sometimes  to  feel  our 
loneliness,  and  the  necessity  of  ever  keeping  on  the  alert. 
^ly  guards  received  the  password  regularly  every  evening, 
and  were  distributed  at  the  main  gate  and  on  the  upper 
terrace,  and  a  sentry  stood  guard  from  sunset  to  sunrise. 
No  one  after  dark  could  pass  in  or  out  without  the  watch- 
word, which,  of  course  was  changed  every  evening.  It 
happened  several  times  that  visitors  who  had  forgotten  to 
get  the  password  on  taking  leave  failed  to  pass  the  sentry 
until  they  had  returned  to  quarters  and  freshened  their 
memory. 

Several  weeks  after  the  exciting  affair  with  the  royal 
guards,  a  swift  messenger  came  to  me  one  morning  soon 
after  I  had  taken  my  coffee.  He  was  sent  to  me  by  Mr. 
Keiin,  our  dragoman,  avIio,  during  the  summer  lived  in  a 
separate  house  a  little  distance  from  Arajeb,  and  hap- 
pened to  be  ill  in  bed  at  the  time.  The  messenger  stated 
that  ^Ir.  Keiin's  servant,  in  a  quarrel  with  a  neighbor,  an 
aged  peasant,  had  perhaps  broken  his  arm  and  otherwise 
injured  the  aged  husbandman.  Infuriated  by  this  oc- 
currence, and  without  stopping  to  look  at  the  right  of  the 
case,  but  thirsting  for  vengeance  against  Christian  for- 
eigners, a  mob  of  the  Persian  villagers  was  about  to  at- 
tack the  United  States  legation,  and  I  must  lose  no  time  to 
take  such  precautions  as  were  feasible  for  our  preservation. 


895 


I  knew,  from  what  had  happened  to  poor  Embajadayoff 
and  his  people,  and  to  an  Englishman  and  his  family  at  a 
more  recent  mobbing  at  Teheran  what  was  likely  to  happen. 
There  is  nothing  more  inflammable  than  a  crowd  of  Per- 
sian fanatics. 

I  ordered  horses  to  be  saddled  at  once  for  the  ladies 
and  the  maid,  and  directed  Asker  Khan  and  two  of  my 
most  trusty  man  to  escort  them,  by  a  postern  gate  over 
the  hills  to  the  British  legation  at  Gulhek  as  soon  as  they 
should  hear  the  firing  begin,  but  to  defer  starting  until 
then.  At  the  same  time  I  despatched  a  messenger  to  Mah- 
mood  Khan,  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  who  lived  in 
summer  at  Djafferabad.  Then  I  gave  orders  to  my  corpor- 
al, to  load  all  his  muskets  with  ball  and  not  to  shrink  from 
using  the  bayonet.  He  and  his  men  were  to  hold  the  gate, 
but  not  fire  until  it  was  burst  in.  If  overpowered, 
they  were  to  fall  back,  if  possible,  to  the  head  of  the 
Avenue  at  the  second  terrace,  where  four  .more  men  and 
some  of  my  servants  were  stationed  to  enfilade  the  avenue. 
I  took  my  place  with  the  rest  of  the  soldiers  and  servants 
at  the  legation  ofiice,  which  commanded  the  third  terrace, 
like  a  citadel. 

The  military  guard,  of  course  had  their  own  arms,  aside 
from  these  I  had  two  rifles  including  a  Spencer  repeating 
rifle,  several  muskets,  scimitars  and  revolvers,  and  man- 
aged with  these  to  arm  the  servants,  keeping  for  my  own  a 
Smith  and  Wesson  35  calibre  repeater.  The  courage  and 
fidelity  of  some  of  the  servants  was  doubtful ;  but  four  or 
five  of  them  I  could  depend  on  to  the  last  drop ;  these  men 
I  retained  with  me.  The  soldiers  I  trusted,  because  they 
were  trained  soldiers.  I  had  treated  them  well,  and  they 
had  already  stated  that  they  would  stand  firm  except  in 


896 


the  single  event,  that  Hadji  Mollah  Allee,  should  order 
them  directly  to  slay  us.  But  there  was  nothing  to  dread 
from  that  quarter  at  that  time. 

The  mob  could  be  heard  approaching  towards  the  main 
entrance  with  howls  and  yells.  The  shrill  voices  of  women 
were  distinguished  mingling  with  the  general  din,  which 
was  a  bad  sign.  Man  in  a  state  of  rage  may  sometimes  be 
amenable  to  reason.  But  when,  throwing  aside  the  reserve 
of  their  sex,  women  join  their  fury  to  that  of  the  men,  it 
is  like  pouring  oil  on  fire,  and  it  is  hard  indeed  then  to  ex- 
tinguish it. 

Several  scores  of  3'elling  men  and  women  at  last  surged 
against  the  legation  gate.  Strong  as  it  was,  it  could  not 
have  resisted  long  when  Mahmood  Khan,  the  minister  of 
foreign  affairs,  appeared  on  the  scene,  almost  breathless, 
and  moved  to  the  last  degree  by  the  urgency  of  the  situa- 
tion. He,  at  least,  had  not  forgotten  the  affair  of  the 
Royal  Guards,  and  did  not  propose  that  his  country 
should  be  embarrassed  and  humiliated  by  any  more  vio- 
lence against  the  Diplomatic  Corps. 

Pushing  among  the  howling  crowd  with  his  attendants, 
the  minister  with  threats,  expostulations,  entreaties  and 
commands,  and  promising  to  care  for  the  wounded  man, 
urged  the  people  to  disperse,  and  go  home.  Reluctantly 
they  scattered  with  deep  mutterings,  and  in  half  an  hour, 
all  was  quiet  again  about  the  legation.  Mahmond  Khan 
ordered  a  doctor  to  prescribe  for  the  broken  arm ;  I  also 
sent  a  present  of  money,  which,  to  a  Persian  is  balm  in- 
deed ;  and  the  trouble  was  heard  of  no  more.  Although  it 
had  proved  a  flash  in  the  pan,  it  had  come  too  unpleasant- 
ly near  to  be  agreeable. 


397 


I  had  not  been  well,  for  some  weeks,  and  to  the  excite- 
ment and  anxiety  of  the  last  attack  by  natives,  was  due 
perhaps  a  rather  serious  return  of  illness,  which  necessi- 
tated a  complete  change  and  more  bracing  air. 

Dr.  Porter,  a  good  missionary  friend,  offered  to  go  with 
me  to  the  Lar  Valley  high  up  on  the  side  of  Mt.  Demavend. 
In  the  defile  of  Hivanikeff  I  was  very  ill,  and  we  stopped 
at  a  picturesque  village  overlooking  the  amazingly  dense, 
continuous  forests  of  the  Caspian-skirted  province  of 
Mazanderan,  and  sent  him  in  search  of  a  native  doctor.  He 
proved  to  be  a  tall,  handsome,  intelligent,  itinerant  Jew. 
Following  the  custom  of  his  people  when  practicing  in 
Asia,  he  would  not  directly  prescribe  for  men  of  rank  and 
power;  accordingly  he  sent  my  servant  to  a  small  country 
grocery  in  the  neighborhood  to  buy  the  needed  drugs 
himself.  These  he  ordered  to  be  ground  and  mixed  or 
boiled,  as  the  case  might  be,  in  my  presence,  which  was 
indispensable.  Thus  this  canny  doctor  reduced  the  dan- 
gers to  which  he  might  be  exposed  in  case  the  patient 
should  die  on  his  hands. 

The  Valley  of  the  Lar  is  a  magnificent  volcanic  depres- 
sion forming  the  floor  of  the  vast  crater  of  Mount  De- 
mavend. It  is  over  10,000  feet  above  the  sea.  A  deep, 
mysterious  stream  winds  across  the  turfy  plain,  surround- 
ed by  the  walls  of  the  crater  rising  some  2,000  feet  high- 
er. At  one  end  of  this  great  crater  rises  the  snow  clad, 
cone-shaped  peak,  9,000  feet  above  the  crater,  altogether 
one  of  the  noblest  examples  of  volcanic  scenery  the  world 
can  show. 

There  I  pitched  my  tent  and  sent  a  courier  to  Djaff era- 
bad  for  my  despatches  and  to  inform  my  family  of  my 
welfare.     Travelling  hard  by  direct  line  across  the  moun- 


398 


tain  paths  he  reached  the  legation  after  twenty-four  hours 
of  steady  travelHng.  As  soon  as  Mrs.  Benjamin  heard  of 
my  ilhiess,  her  imagination  took  alarm,  and  she  resolved 
to  come  up  to  the  Lar  at  once,  without  an  hour's  delay,  a 
hazardous  enterprise  under  the  circumstances,  and  which 
I  could  not  have  permitted  for  a  moment,  if  I  had  known 
of  her  intentions  in  time  to  prevent  it.  The  journey  was  a 
desperate  undertaking  under  any  circumstances,  but  es- 
pecially for  a  woman,  and  in  summer,  as  little  travelling  is 
done  by  daylight  in  Persia  during  the  season,  over  the 
wild,  lonely  mountains  of  stern  Sierras,  safe  only  with  suf- 
ficient escort,  whether  by  day  or  night. 

Fortunately  Mr.  Keiin,  our  capable  drogoman,  was 
sufficiently  recovered  in  health  to  accompany  them  and 
they  also  took  the  Nestorian  maid,  Salbee.  The  advantage 
of  keeping  a  number  of  horses  was  now  manifest.  To  hire 
good  animals  on  short  notice  is  not  easy  in  Persia,  es- 
pecially if  one  happens  to  be  distant  from  the  city.  My 
wdfe  and  daughter  had  each  a  saddle  horse,  and  both  were 
fearless  riders. 

Soon  after  four  P.  ]M.  they  started  for  the  Lar  with  Mr. 
Keiin,  tw^o  soldiers,  and  three  servants  including  the  maid, 
and  three  extra  horses  carrying  bedding  and  luggage. 
They  were  accompanied  by  Madoc,  our  magnificent  Bac- 
tiari  hound,  the  finest  dog  in  Persia,  large,  handsome  and 
fierce,  but  intelligent,  affectionate  and  faithful  as  ever  a 
living  being  could  be.  He  served  admirably  as  a  scout. 
The  party  took  a  more  direct  but  more  broken  and  arduous 
path  than  the  one  usually  followed  in  going  to  the  Lar, 
the  one  taken  tliat  very  day  by  my  messenger.  It  was 
devious,  often  along  the  edge  of  frightful  precipices,  and 
often  so  narrow  they  had  to  turn  aside  and  wait  for  the 

399 
26 


caravans  to  pass.  These  consisted,  for  the  most  part,  of 
long,  slow  trains  of  mules  laden  with  coal  or  rice  from 
the  Caspian  provinces.  They  were  driven  by  rough  moun- 
taineers, who  had  no  character  to  lose,  and  incurred  little 
risk  in  picking  a  quarrel  with  wayfarers,  or  robbing  or 
murdering  them. 

At  one  place  the  party,  descrying  a  group  of  these  des- 
peradoes approaching  them  in  the  gloom,  had  just  time 
to  dismount  and  conceal  themselves  in  a  dark  cleft.  At 
another  place  they  wandered  from  the  right  path  and  had 
to  retrace  their  steps,  not  without  difficulty.  At  length, 
to  their  great  relief,  daylight  began  to  dawn  over  the 
mountain  peaks,  and  they  were  able  to  stop  by  a  rivulet 
in  a  ravine  and  snatch  a  light  breakfast.  About  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  I  was  struck  with  amazement  to  see  my 
wife  and  daughter  ride  up  in  front  of  my  tent  where  I  was 
quietly  sketching.  I  must  say  I  was  greatly  overcome  by 
this  example  of  domestic  affection.  My  second  thought 
was,  that  they  must  suffer  ill  consequences  from  such  sud- 
den exertion  and  exposure.  It  was  indeed  a  relief  to  me 
when  I  found  that  the  stimulus  of  the  pure  mountain 
air  of  the  Lar  had  restored  their  energies.  I  ought  to 
add  here  that  throughout  our  entire  residence  in  Persia, 
whatever  the  circumstances,  these  ladies  never  displayed 
any  weakness  or  timidity. 

We  remained  a  fortnight  in  that  unique  retreat.  The 
French  minister,  M.  Balloy,  also  had  his  tent  there,  and 
was  enjoying  a  rest  from  official  duties.  We  met  often 
and  passed  our  evenings  together  around  "the  walnuts 
and  the  wine."  Altogether,  I  am  convinced  there  is 
nowhere  in  the  world  a  more  romantic  spot  for  resting  the 
nerves  and  the  brain  than  the  Valley  of  Lar. 


400 


As  soon  as  possible  after  arriving  at  Teheran  I  set 
about  preparing  a  code  for  the  direction  of  purely  con- 
sular duties  such  as  arise  in  conflicts  either  between 
American  citizens  and  the  people  of  the  country,  or  be- 
tween our  citizens  alone.  In  some  cases  mixed  cases  might 
occur  in  which  the  intervention  of  the  minister  brought 
such  cases  within  the  diplomatic  supervision  of  the  minis- 
ter himself.  Being  at  once  the  head  of  both  of  these 
departments  of  executive  effort  as  charge  d'  affaires, 
minister  and  consul  general,  my  duties  brought  all  these 
offices  under  my  supervision  during  my  mission  to  Persia. 

As  the  customs  and  conditions  vary,  more  or  less,  in 
Oriental  countries,  each  United  States  legation  had  a  code 
of  its  own,  prepared  for  special  conditions.  The  code 
which  I  drew  up  by  direction  of  the  department,  and 
which  was  approved  by  the  attorney  general  at  Wash- 
ington, was  made  as  simple  as  possible. 

I  was  none  too  soon  in  preparing  this  document.  I  had 
been  awaiting  a  summons  from  the  Russian  minister,  M. 
Melnikoff.  It  was  characteristic  and  breezy  when  it  came, 
Russia's  usual  aggressive  manner  in  dealing  with  Asiatic 
peoples.  The  business  was  sufficiently  important  as  it 
was  a  test  case  that  would  settle  the  whole  question  of  land 
titles  held  by  all  foreign  subjects  and  citizens  holding 
realty  in  Persia.  As  their  number  was  increasing,  the 
principles  involved  were  also  gaining  in  importance  pro- 
portionately as  Russia  was  steadily  straining  every 
nerve  to  increase  her  influence  in  Persia. 

So  far  as  I  was  concerned  in  the  case  I  entered  into 
the  business  with  a  certain  zest  because  for  many  years 
I  had  been  brought  into  contact  with  many  of  the  races 
of   the   Levant,    including   the   Russians,   all  to   a   degree 


401 


distinct,  yet  all  combining,  to  form  a  species  of  pictorial 
design  different  from  that  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  com- 
bination, and  perhaps  more  interesting  and  picturesque, 
with  virtues  of  its  own,  and  sins  as  well. 

The  case  of  Nazarhekoff  v.  Bassett  well  illustiated  this 
fact,  involving  from  first  to  last,  Armenians,  Persians, 
Russians,  English,  Afghans,  Americans,  Austro-Hungari- 
ans,  French,  Turks,  and  Dutch  from  its  inception  to  its 
final  close.  Apparently  an  ordinary  suit  at  law,  it  really 
determined  the  position  in  Persia  of  a  great  international 
problem  or  principle.  It  began  with  the  transfer  of  a 
certain  parcel  of  land  within  the  walls  of  Teheran,  alleged 
by  James  Bassett,  an  American  citizen,  to  have  been 
bought  by  him  from  an  Armenian  widow  named  Otanes, 
a  Persian  subject,  for  which  he  paid  in  coin,  the  amount 
agreed  upon  by  the  said  contracting  parties. 

Thus  far  all  had  proceeded  according  to  the  laws  of 
Persia  as  established  with  sundry  amendments  and  com- 
mentaries based  on  the  Koranic  laws,  and  practiced  with- 
out question  for  many  centuries. 

Subsequently  a  firm  of  Russo-Armenian  merchants, 
Nazarbekoff  by  name,  and  subjects  of  Russia,  laid  claim 
that  they  had  purchased  the  aforesaid  land  directly  from 
Otanes,  late  husband  of  said  Perso-Armenian  widow,  and 
that  the  Bassett  claim  and  title  were  null  and  void.  Here 
the  hand  of  Russia  first  appeared  as  the  protector  of 
the  claims  of  the  Nazarbekoff  litigants. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  there  being  at  the  time 
the  case  was  first  opened,  no  American  minister  in  Persia 
Mr.  Bassett  took  his  papers  to  the  English  legation,  who 
after  looking  into  the  claims  of  the  Russian  decided 
several  of  the  documents  produced,  were  spurious,  and  de- 


402 


clincd  to  accept  the  decision  in  fcavor  of  the  Russian.  All 
papers  in  the  still  unsettled  case  were  turned  over  to  me 
soon  after  my  arrival,  and  I  advised  Mr.  Bassett  to 
throw  up  a  wall  around  the  premises  in  question,  and  I 
sent  a  soldier  to  keep  out  all  intruders.  This  action 
brought  a  sharp  note  from  ^l.  Mclnikoff  virtually  ordering 
us  off  the  land  of  his  Russian  client.  I  replied  in  suitable 
terms,  wherein  he  could  read  between  the  lines  that  it 
might  be  some  time  before  his  client  would  possess  the 
coveted  land.  In  short,  he  finally  consented,  after  much 
manoeuvring,  to  submit  the  case  to  a  board  of  referees. 

It  shows  the  arrogant  methods  of  Russia,  that  the 
minister  at  Teheran  should  have  given  judgment  in  this 
case  without  at  least  serving  notice  on  Mr.  Bassett ;  for, 
of  course,  without  his  being  himself  present  or  represented 
by  his  deputy  to  show  cause,  the  judgment  must  necessari- 
ly be  without  binding  force,  unless  after  a  long  period 
in  very  exceptional  cases.  But  the  Russians  gave  this  no 
attention.  I  insisted  that  the  case  could  not  be  submitted 
until  the  validity  of  all  the  documents  was  finally  proven. 
This  statement  from  the  American  minister  was  a  stun- 
ning blow  to  the  plea  of  the  plaintiff,  and  I  had  insisted 
the  case  should  be  tried  in  a  consular  court  according  to 
usage  in  countries  where  principles  of  extra-territoriality 
prevailed — this  of  course  implied  a  trial  in  United  States 
premises. 

The  Russians  then  objected  to  Persian  law,  and  for 
many  weeks  endeavored  to  get  me  to  sul)mit  the  case  to 
European  law,  but  I  was  firm  that  land  titles  in  Persia 
must  be  decided  by  the  laws  of  Persia.  This  case  was 
finally  decided  in  our  favor  in  all  points. 


403 


The  purposes  of  Russia  in  Asia  are  cool,  long  headed, 
determined,  and  nothing  is  too  small  or  insignificant  to 
hold  her  attention  if  it  compromises  her  plans,  while  it 
is  of  no  consequence  how  great  it  is,  if  it  does  not  affect 
her  designs.  Religion  has  something  to  do  with  her  per- 
tinacity, but  ambition,  a  certain  ceaseless  yearning  to 
round  out  the  empire  she  has  planned  for  ages  back,  is 
behind  all  her  movements.  For  these  reasons  an  American 
legation  in  Persia,  and  groups  of  active  missionaries 
disseminating  religious  and  economic  influence  and  in- 
struction in  the  heart  of  Asia,  Russia  thinks  needs  watch- 
ing. It  is  needless  to  go  into  all  the  facts,  I  did  some 
watching  in  turn  and  was  not  wholly  ignorant  of  what  was 
going  on.  It  is  to  a  degree  permissible  and  expected 
that  a  diplomatic  official  should  keep  his  eyes  open  and 
learn  all  he  can.  Miquefort  has  pertinently  said,  "An 
ambassador  is  a  distinguished  spy,  who  is  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  law  of  nations." 

I  knew  we  were  under  keen,  ever  wide  open  ocular 
and  auricular  observation  in  Persia.  Such  espionage  in 
Turkey  is  less  important  now  owing  to  a  change  in  con- 
ditions. 

Except  'for  this  Bassett  trial  and  the  minister's  rather 
humiliating  defeat,  our  relations  with  the  Russian  legation 
were  always  cordial  and  gratifying,  adding  distinctly  to 
the  interest  of  our  Persian  life.  As  for  example,  we  were 
invited  to  attend  with  the  minister's  family,  Sunday  ser- 
vices of  the  Greek  Church  in  their  private  chapel,  with 
a  charming  dinner  afterward  at  the  legation. 

We  enjoyed  more  than  once  their  abundant  hospitality, 
their  appetizing  zakoushkas  and  generous  board.  I  con- 
fess  that   these   great,   massive   blue-eyed   rulers   of  men, 


404 


and  all  the  splendor  of  their  stately  autocratic  bearing, 
had  a  wonderful  attraction.  I  accepted  their  professions 
of  friendship  whether  sly  or  sincere,  and  greatly  enjoyed 
their  boisterous,  open-hearted  hilarity,  their  bursts  of 
effusive  geniality — (often  followed  by  sudden  explosions 
of  rage). 

An  effective  expression  of  the  essence  of  my  observation 
of  Russian  ideas  is  found  in  the  words  of  Lev  Vassilie- 
vitch,  repeated  with  naive  simplicity  and  sincerity  and 
yet,  to  one  who  is  not  a  Russian,  an  expression  of  the  most 
appalling  sarcasm  ever  put  in  print.  It  is  simply  impos- 
sible for  one  to  express  the  sincerity,  at  least,  of  the  au- 
thor of  such  language.  "Voila,"  says  he,  "voila  les  £jar- 
diens  armes  (the  cossacks)  qui  portent  haut-la-bas  notre 

drapeau  toujours  pacifique car  pour  Les  Vassilie- 

vitch  les  guerres  Russes  sont  tellement  chretiennes,  telle- 
ment  nationales,  tellement  Russes  enfin,  qu'  elles  ont  en- 
core la  caractere  de  la  paix." 

The  population  of  Teheran  is  estimated  at  upwards  of 
200,000.  One  gets  a  sense  of  isolation  as  one  approaches 
over  the  vast  sand-plains  that  surround  the  capital  and 
sees  the  extensive  fortified  walls  that  hem  it  in,  but  pass- 
ing through  the  lofty  gates  covered  with  the  resplendant 
glazed  tiles  for  wliich  Persia  is  so  famous,  the  surprise  is 
great.  Xo  monotonous  blocks  as  in  most  cities,  but  charm- 
ing gardens,  sumptuous  foliage,  until  one  reaches  the  heart 
of  the  great  city. 

Outside  the  gates  there  are  at  a  little  distance,  charm- 
ing villas  surrounded  by  large  grounds,  among  them  that 
of  the  Sayed  Azem,  who  married  a  French  widow  (who  had 
been  governess  in  his  family)  at  the  .suggestion  of  his  first 
wife,  who  wished  to  help  her.     Some  ingratitude  followed 


405 


on  the  part  of  the  French  woman,  who  aspired  to  be  chief 
wife,  and  she  was  afterward  relegated  to  a  subordinate 
place.  If  Persian  men  may  have  relations  with  Chris- 
tian women,  this  is  not  a  privilige  allowed  to  both  sexes. 
No  Christian  of  any  nation  shall  intermarry  with  a 
Mohammedan  woman  in  Persia,  or  have  anything  to  do 
with  them,  at  the  peril  of  their  lives.  A  Frenchman  whom 
I  knew  well,  had  a  love  affair  with  a  Persian  woman  of  low 
rank,  and  through  indiscretion  forgot  the  law  of  the  land. 
They  were  found  out,  and  a  mob  arose  like  a  spring-tide 
and  storming  the  premises  where  they  were  meeting, 
slaughtered  the  unfortunate  woman,  the  lover  dropping 
over  the  wall  into  a  neighbor's  yard,  reached  a  mosque 
before  the  howling  mob,  and  turned  Musselman  on  the 
spot,  and  was  duly  circumsized. 

The  great  qualities  of  the  Turk  are  shown  in  executive 
and  military  matters,  and  these  finer  traits  are  at  their 
best,  when  not  mingled  with  Christian  blood ;  but  these 
nobler  qualities  of  Turkish  race  run  in  narrow  channels 
for  the  most  part.  The  Ottoman  learns  from  observation 
and  is  not  a  great  student  or  a  conversationalist.  He 
impresses  one  more  by  a  certain  stolid  dignity  than  by 
what  he  says. 

With  the  Persian  it  is  quite  otherwise.  He  is  versatile, 
mercurial  in  manner,  brilliant  in  conversation,  and  ready 
to  impart  any  information  of  interest  he  has  won — some- 
times with  considerable  added  color. 

I  had  special  advantages  at  Teheran  in  studying  the 
character  of  the  people,  as  well  as  the  ancient  arts  and 
literature  of  the  country,  and  through  previous  residence 
and  journey ings  in  the  East,  I  was  able  to  get  at  the  true 
inwardness   of   the   very   complex   abilities   and   character 


406 


of  the  Perso-Aryan  races.  It  is  a  great  field  for  the  study 
of  the  etlmologist,  tlie  artist,  the  philosopher,  and  the 
archaeologist.  I  know  of  no  Asiatic  people  that  offer 
such  a  store  of  racial  problems. 

A  study  of  the  Persian  today  will  enable  us  better  to 
understand  the  man  of  2,000  years  ago.  If  you  would 
know  the  character  of  Greeks  who  fought  before  Troy, 
study  the  Greeks  of  today.  They  lack  the  stupendous 
genius  or  the  opportunity  to  call  it  forth,  but  the  general 
essentials  of  character  are  the  same. 

Among  other  interesting  men  I  met  in  Persia  were  the 
Parsees,  or  original  Fireworshippers,  of  whom  some  twenty 
or  thirty  thousand  still  remain  in  the  land  of  Iran.  They, 
with  the  Parsees  of  Bombay,  form  an  active  and  most  in- 
telligent body  of  men.  Their  "Towers  of  Silence"  or 
burial  places  are  sometimes  passed  in  Persia,  and  are 
gruesome  enough.  They  still  preserve  intact,  the  cult  of 
Zoroaster,  as  indicated  by  ^Moore's  Lalla  Rookh.  The  Sect 
of  Babis,  now  called  Bahaists,  were  in  an  interesting  stage 
of  their  progress  and  numbered  I  was  told,  already  several 
hundred  thousand  in  Persia  and  elsewhere.  In  Teheran 
they  had  to  push  their  work  with  great  circumspection, 
and  I  could  not  officially  meet  them,  although  I  would 
gladly  have  talked  with  their  leaders.  They  were  con- 
sidered "a  politico-religious  body"  although  they  claimed 
in  Persia  to  be  wholly  devoted  to  religion  and  morals 
founded  on  Islamism. 

Civil  and  political  principles  were  held  by  Persian  of- 
ficials to  be  at  the  basis  of  the  movement,  which  had  reached 
such  a  momentum  that  it  was  thought  to  be  a  menace  to  the 
theocratic  government  of  Mohanmiedan  peoples.  On  one 
occasion  I  was  invited  to  visit  the  president  of  the  Persian 


407 


board  of  trade,  and  on  arriving  was  ushered  into  an 
exquisite  kiosk  supported  by  light  groups  of  saracenic 
arches  and  pillars,  and  walls  faced  with  floral  designs 
of  glazed  tiles.  The  vaulted  ceiling  was  azure,  picked  out 
with  gilded  stars,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  marble  floor 
was  a  deep  tank  shaped  like  a  star,  whose  facets  spouted 
silver  rain  with  tinkling  music.  It  was  altogether  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  superb  examples  of  decorative  art 
it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  behold.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  if  one  would  knoAV  of  what  manner  were  the 
charms  of  the  famous  gardens  which  the  great  king 
erected  on  the  hanging  gardens  of  Babylon  he  w^ould 
only  need  to  look  at  the  grounds  and  pavilion  of  which  I 
have  endeavored  to  give  a  faint  description  in  these  pages. 

The  dignitary  who  stepped  forward  to  meet  me  with 
two  or  three  attendants  or  companions  was  every  way 
fitted  to  be  the  proprietor  of  this  abode  of  pleasantness. 
He  was  six  feet  tall,  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  every  inch 
a  Persian  of  the  purest  stock.  His  complexion  was  hrun 
and  ruddy,  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  his  flowing  black 
beard  slightly  tinged  with  henna,  was  carefully  barbered 
and  combed  smoothly  as  silk.  His  dress  was  Oriental  to 
the  last  detail,  also  entirely  of  silk  sumptuously  em- 
broidered and  reaching  to  the  floor.  His  manner  was  that 
of  an  emperor,  and  as  of  one  so  sure  of  his  worth  and 
position  he  could  condescend  without  yielding  an  iota  of 
his  place   and  power. 

Of  course  at  the  outset  of  the  visit  conversation  was 
formal  and  ceremonious.  But  after  the  first  refreshments 
had  been  served  and  the  pipes  filled  with  the  most  fragrant 
tobacco  of  the  East,  my  host  began  to  display  the  opulent 
versatility   of  his   fancy   and   intelligence,   and  that   mer- 


408 


curial  warmth  and  culture  for  which  Persians  are  noted 
beyond  all  men  of  the  East,  and  then  whatever  subject 
was  touched  upon  was  sure  to  suggest  an  opportunity 
for  displaying  his  talents. 

First  we  touched  on  matters  of  fact,  and  he  held  us  by 
the  excellent  sense  he  showed  in  discussing  with  due 
prudence  civic  and  political  questions,  public  resources, 
and  the  like.  Gradually  we  passed  to  matters  more  purely 
conversational,  and  here  again  I  found  him  a  master  or 
at  least  a  clear  thinker  on  Avhatever  subject  was  brought 
forth,  with  a  keen  eye  for  matters  at  home  and  abroad. 
Then  we  passed  to  wit  and  humor  and  repartee,  and  then 
to  art  and  poetry.  He  was  equally  ready  in  passing  from 
one  topic  to  the  other,  and  seemed  to  be  especially  on 
his  native  heather  when  he  repeated  folk  lore  or  quotations 
from  the  great  poets  that  have  adorned  the  literature  of 
Persia. 

The  fact  that  most  deeply  impressed  me  during  this 
visit,  was  the  enormous  difference  between  the  business 
men  or  financeers  of  central  Asia,  especially  Persia,  and 
those  of  America. 


409 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


HOMEWARD  BOUND. 


When  the  result  of  our  November  elections  reached 
Persia,  and  the  Democratic  party  came  into  power,  I 
knew  as  an  ardent  Republican  my  days  in  Persia  were 
ended,  and  I  wrote  out  my  "resignation"  and  began  to 
make  preparations  to  turn  my  face  westward. 

The  years  had  been  full  of  interest  in  many  respects 
to  us  all,  but  in  a  way  we  had  skimmed  the  cream,  and  as 
we  began  to  think  of  home  interests,  we  were  on  the  whole 
glad  to  go. 

One  of  my  last  official  duties  was  to  take  leave  of  His 
Majesty,  Nasr-ed-Deen  Shah  and  the  chief  officials  of  the 
Court.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  kindness  and  affability 
shown  to  us.  His  Majesty  had  already  sent  word  by  one 
of  his  cabinet  to  suggest  that,  if  any  word  of  the  king 
could  avail  to  extend  my  residence  in  Persia,  he  would 
gladly  use  his  influence  at  Washington,  and  I  could  rely 
on  him.  He  also  requested  me  to  send  a  strong  message 
of  amity  to  the  President.  His  favorite  wife  also  sent 
her  best  wishes  and  bon  voyage  to  Mrs.  Benjamin  with 
very  beautiful  presents. 

When  on  the  point  of  leaving  I  was  greatly  surprised 
and  moved,  to  receive  resolutions  of  thanks  from  out  citi- 

410 


zens  in  various  parts  of  the  realm,  one  of  these  I  may  be 
permitted  to  quote  here  as  an  example  of  the  rest.  "The 
following  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted  b}"  Tab- 
reeg  Station  of  the  Western  Persia  Mission,  May  4th, 
1885,  and  b}^  Rev.  W.  Whipple,  Agent,  American  Bible 
Society  for  Persia. 

"Whereas  we  have  learned  with  deep  regret  of  the  re- 
call by  our  government  of  His  Excellency  S.  G-  W.  Ben- 
jamin, Minister  of  the  United  States  to  the  Persian  Court 
therefore 

Resolved,  that  we  express  our  warmest  thanks  to  Minis- 
ter Benjamin  for  the  promptness  and  efficiency  which  he 
has  always  displayed  in  protecting  our  interests  as  Ameri- 
can citizens  and  for  the  cordial  sympathy  with  us  and 
with  our  work  which  he  has  ever  shown. 

Resolved,  that  we  bespeak  for  ]Mr.  Benjamin  a  career 
of  eminent  success  whether  in  public  or  in  private  life, 
and  that  our  progress  will  go  with  him  and  with  his 
family  on  their  long  journey  home,  that  it  may  be  a  safe 
and  pleasant  one,  and  that  the  Lord  may  abundantly 
bless  them  in  all  their  ways. 

"(Signed)  George  A.  Holmes, 

"Sec'y  pro  tem." 

The  most  affecting  scene  of  our  departure  and  one  of 
the  most  sorrowful  in  my  life,  was  the  parting  from  our 
noble  hound,  Madoc.  For  weeks  he  had  obsei-^'ed  all  our 
movements,  growing  more  restless  and  sad,  as  the  fateful 
day  approached.  He  seemed  to  knoAv,  poor  fellow,  what 
was  about  to  happen.  Fain  would  we  have  taken  him  with 
us.  But  it  was  impossible,  owing  to  the  long,  circuitous 
way  home,  and  the  uncertainty  of  our  movements  and 
plans.    There  was  one  gleam  of  hope  when  he  accompanied 


411 


us  out  a  few  miles.  But  when  he  at  last  realized  that  the 
moment  of  eternal  farew^ell  had  come,  he  coiled  himself 
in  a  corner  with  a  look  of  indescribable  despair  in  his 
brown  eyes.  He  seemed  hardly  to  dare  look  at  us,  and 
deep  sighs  came  from  him.  I  need  not  say  that  my  family 
were  bathed  in  tears. 

We  learned  afterward  that  for  months  the  poor  hound, 
who  had  to  be  dragged  with  a  chain  back  to  Teheran, 
haunted  the  legation,  pacing  slowly  through  each  apart- 
ment, looking  in  vain  for  those  for  whom  he  would  have 
sacrificed  his  life.  Such  a  tragedy  as  this,  I  am  free  to  con- 
fess, seemed  to  me  gratuitous  injustice,  and  for  the  time 
effaced  all  the  Scriptures  and  philosophies. 

Who  shall  explain  the  unexplainable  anguish  of  a  brute 
creature,  always  faithful  and  true,  and  who  may  happen 
to  have  the  same  susceptibilities  as  a  human  being? 

Go  to ;  the  more  I  see  and  know  of  life  the  more  deeply 
do  I  feel,  that  the  chief,  perhaps  the  only  proof  we  have 
of  immortality  hereafter,  is  the  absolute  necessity  of  an- 
other existence  to  rights  the  wrongs  of  this. 

My  official  calls  on  leaving  my  diplomatic  post  were 
agreeable,  and  in  some  cases  affecting.  I  found  the  Naib 
Sultaneh  attended  by  a  large  number  of  secretaries,  seated 
in  rows  on  their  heels  with  the  paper  and  kalendans  in 
their  hands.  The  minister  of  foreign  affairs  was  very 
cordial,  and  expressed  much  regret  at  our  leaving.  The 
Prince  asked  me  to  write  to  him.  I  learned  that  the 
English  government  had  recently  sold  to  the  Persian 
government  a  quantity  of  arms,  which  accounted  for 
recent  reluctance  of  the  Persians  to  buy  arms  from  the 
United  States,  as  partly  agreed  upon. 


412 


iNIy  last  call  on  the  Mochir-i-Dowleh*  was  exceedingly 
interesting,  in  his  old  residence,  buried  among  the  narrow, 
but  very  picturesque  streets  of  old  Teheran. 

These  Persian  dwellings  are  a  complete  surprise. 
Enter,  and  you  find  a  gorgeous  and  stately  magnificence 
beyond  description.  The  hall  where  I  was  received, 
looked  upon  an  oranger}'^  on  one  side,  and  a  wild  wood  of 
foliage  and  flowers  on  the  other.  At  each  end  was  an  im- 
mense window,  extending  across  the  apartment,  with  in- 
tricate mouldings,  the  upper  part  of  stained  glass,  like 
a  cathedral  window.  All  the  furnishings  were  of  the  most 
sumptuous  character,  and  this  in  the  very  heart  of  a 
large  .and  old  city. 

He  had  another  establishment  quite  as  sumptuous,  I 
was  told — Persia  must  have  wealth,  certainly  every  Per- 
sian city  has  men  of  wealth,  culture  and  luxurious  tastes. 
We  had  some  charming  dinners  given  us,  and  it  is 
pleasant  to  feel  we  left  Persia  with  no  enemies.  Even 
the  Russian  minister,  who  had  felt  very  much  his  de- 
feat in  the  Bassett  case,  so  as  to  make  a  decided  cool- 
ness in  personal  relations  for  awhile,  called  upon  me 
and  in  a  most  friendly  way  wished  to  have  me  forget 
any  previous  action.  He  kissed  me  good-bye,  it  being 
the  custom  in  some  countries  for  men  to  kiss.  I  had 
a  call  from  the  leading  Armenian  Priest  of  the  prov- 
ince, who  earnestly  requested  to  see  me  before  I  left 
Teheran.  He  said  that  all  the  Armenians  would  pray 
for  my  welfare,  and  hope  for  my  return  here.  My  wife 
and  daughter  were  invited  to  luncheon  at  the  palace  to 
meet  the  Countess  Monteforte,  and  a  day  or  two  after, 
the  chief  eunuch  came  again,  bringing  to  ]Mrs.  Benjamin 


*Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs. 
413 


as  a  parting  gift  from  the  Anisa  Dowleh,  a  ring  of  old 
mine  diamonds,  consisting  of  a  large,  central  solitaire 
and  several  smaller  ones,  clustered  about  it.  This  favorite 
wife  of  the  king  sent  also  a  quantity  of  what  are  called 
dombalen,  which  are  very  rare,  found  only  near  Ker- 
manshah,  and  considered  a  great  delicacy,  to  be  had  only 
by  the  roj^al  household.  She  invited  my  wife  and  daugh- 
ter to  a  farewell  dejiftne  where  the  Shah  himself  came  in, 
and  said  a  kindly  good-bye. 

When  we  left  she  requested  her  eunuch  to  buy  for  her, 
the  furniture  of  ]Mrs.  Benjamin's  sleeping  room,  and  she 
expressed  a  wish  to  hear  from  her  by  letter  after  her 
return  home. 

The  Anisa  DoAvleh  was  a  typical  Oriental  woman 
of  the  higher  order ;  large,  stout,  of  fine  presence,  very  in- 
telligent, without  being  cultivated  in  our  sense.  She  loved 
the  Shah  to  whom  she  had  been  married  twenty  years, 
with  passionate  devotion,  and  his  tragic  death  so  soon 
after,  must  have  been  a  terrible  shock  to  her.  Mirza  Ali- 
Kuli  Khan  says  "womanhood  is  the  heart  of  the  body  of 
the  nation ;  manhood  is  the  brain  of  the  bod}^  of  hu- 
manity." 

One  of  our  last  dinners  was  at  the  Turkish  legation. 
The  Turkish  minister  being  the  dean  of  the  diplomatic 
corps — the  English  minister  being  next  in  rank.  The  de- 
licious fruits  of  Persia  were  much  in  evidence,  especially 
the  famous  pomegranite,  so  luscious  in  taste  and  color. 

I  had  an  interesting  semi-confidential  talk  with  the 
Russian  minister  before  leaving  Persia.  He  said  that  '"Rus- 
sians had  been  like  apes,  until  within  the  last  thirty  years, 
imitating  other  nations  and  sensitive  to  foreign  opinion ; 
but  now  they  were  entering  into  a  maturer  period  with  a 


414 


consciousness  of  being  a  great  nation,  with  a  great  future, 
and  thej  proposed  to  walk  in  their  path  to  the  great 
destiny  allotted  to  them,  indifferent  to  foreign  ideas  and 
approval." 

"The  universal  howl  now,"  he  said,  "was  for  constitu- 
tional governments.  Russia  would  be  great  and  happy 
with  a  paternal  government."  I  replied  that  America  also, 
had  passed  the  period  of  dependence,  that  since  our  civil 
war  we  had  learned  the  strength  of  union  and  a  central 
government  and  although  Russia  and  the  United  States  of 
America  were  marching  under  entirely  different  organi- 
zations we  were  at  present  the  two  governments  that  had 
a  Future,  whose  interests  were  not  in  collision.  I  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  the  prospects  of  a  general  Euro- 
pean war  before  many  years.  "Russia  is  in  a  Avretched 
financial  condition  now,"  he  said,  "beside,  we  are  already 
too  much  spread  out,  why  add  more  territory.'^"  "Then 
your  demonstration  on  the  eastern  frontier  is  a  menace  to 
England,  rather  than  any  definite  intention  to  declare 
war,"  I  said.  "You  wish  perhaps  to  force  her  to  make 
concessions  regarding  Constantinople,  and  once  such  a 
needed  outlet  obtained,  your  policy  would  doubtless  cease 
to  be  aggressive."  The  minister  turned  slowly,  looked  me 
steadily  in  the  eye  as  if  to  see  how  far  I  was  in  earnest, 
and  slightly  bent  his  head,  but  refrained  from  making  any 
oral  reply. 

The  Germans  of  Russia  arc  not  yet  identified  with  the 
slavic  race.  The  Poles  are  more  highly  strung  than  the 
Russians,  and  they  attained  civilization  earlier,  and  once 
had  an  important  history,  and  consider  themselves  superior 
to  Russians,  declining  to  idenfify  themselves  with  them. 


415 
27 


Our  journey  to  the  Caspian  I  shall  never  forget,  the 
second  view  of  the  wonderful  mountain  scenery  between 
Teheran  and  Resht,  confirmed  my  first  impressions  of  its 
unique  beauty.  It  possesses  extraordinary  richness  and 
variety.  We  took  some  of  our  native  servants  with  us 
for  our  overland  trip,  and  our  maid  had  insisted  on  ac- 
companying the  ladies  to  America.  We  tried  to  dissuade 
her,  but  finding  she  had  sold  a  cottage  she  owned,  to  fit 
herself  with  funds  to  go,  in  case  we  would  not  take  her, 
we  allowed  her  to  begin  the  journey  with  us.  Arriving  at 
Resht  where  we  were  to  embark  on  a  Russian  steamer, 
she  became  appalled  at  the  sea  trip,  but  was  still  de- 
termined to  go  on.  On  arriving  at  Baku,  where  every- 
thing is  saturated  with  the  odor  of  oil-wells  she  was  some- 
what disenchanted,  but  it  remained  for  the  sight  and  taste 
of  European  bread  to  finally  decide  her  to  return  to  Per- 
sia where  she  could  find  her  much  relished  sangak  or  Per- 
sian bread.  "You  eat  that!"  she  said,  looking  at  a  loaf 
of  European  baker's  bread.  I  assured  her  we  had  no 
other  bread  in  our  country.  She  was  deeply  depressed  as 
she  weighed  in  the  balance  her  love  for  us  and  the  horror 
of  eating  forever,  the  unpalatable  wheaten  mixture,  but 
she  at  any  rate  would  go  to  the  cars  with  us.  Here  was 
another  trial  for  her,  we  had  taken  two  compartments  at 
the  rear  end  of  the  car.  "What !"  she  exclaimed,  "a 
vizier  not  have  the  whole  car !"  We  tried  to  explain  to 
her  that  in  America  she  would  probably  have  only  one 
seat — altogether  the  disillusion  was  so  complete,  it  took 
but  little  persuading,  to  send  her  back  to  Teheran  with 
Ali  and  Hassan,  our  Persian  attendants  up  to  this  point. 

We  embarked  at  Batoum  for  Odessa,  intending  to  visit 
the   Russian   summer-resort   Yalta,   where   are   the   royal 


416 


summer  palaces  and  beautiful  homes  of  the  nobility. 
Thence  we  passed  on  to  Kertch,  an  old  town,  full  of 
unique  antique  carvings,  marbles,  hoary  with  age,  some 
of  them  built  into  the  exterior  of  cheap,  modern  houses. 
Longing  to  linger  there  we  were  obliged  to  proceed  with 
our  steamer  to  Sebastopol.  Heretofore  through  the 
Crimea  a  high  ridge  of  mountains  had  served  as  back- 
ground, rising  like  a  solid  wall  of  masonry  back  of  the 
picturesque  villages,  but  the  mountains  gradually  became 
lower  and  lower,  until  they  disappeared  in  the  plains  be- 
low. 

I  left  my  family  at  Vienna  in  the  care  of  our  ambassa- 
dor, ]Mr,  Francis,  who  with  his  good  wife,  made  their  stay 
of  many  weeks  as  delightful  as  possible. 

^ly  welcome  home  was  a  warm  one,  and  almost  as  many 
dinners  were  given  me,  as  when  I  sailed.  The  Salamagundy 
Club  did  not,  however,  this  time,  present  the  demijon  of 
"Scotch,"  which  was  to  insure  my  health  in  Persia.  Per- 
haps they  had  heard  reports  from  my  secretary,  of  how 
often  and  with  what  care  this  particular  "parcel"  had  to 
be  examined  en  route  to  Persia  by  custom  house  officers, 
until  I  was  finally  forced  to  have  it  carefully  boxed.  In 
any  event,  New  York  was  not  malarious,  what  need  of  it ! 

I  found  the  settling  down  to  old  pursuits  not  so  easy  as 
I  supposed.  Although  nu'  official  life  had  not  been  many 
years,  I  had  formed  habits  of  mind  and  effort  so  different 
from  any  former  life  I  had  lived,  I  could  never  quite  re- 
turn to  the  same  groove  again. 

I  had  been  in  Persia  long  enough  I  discovered,  to  de- 
velop quite  a  taste  for  diplomatic  life,  and  while  the  ex- 
pense and  precariousness  of  such  position  made  me  quite 
determined  never  again  to  seek  it,  or  even  to  accept, 
if  offered,  still  I  missed  it. 

417 


I  found  my  life  in  Persia  had  well  nigh  effaced  my 
formei'  work  in  the  memory  of  many,  and  although  this 
Avas  advantageous  for  a  time,  giving  me  innumerable  re- 
quests to  lecture  and  to  write  books  and  articles,  still  in 
the  end,  it  was  an  injury. 

I  became  for  the  time  authority  on  Oriental  matters, 
and  was  beseiged  for  articles  on  Persian  art  and  other 
kindred  subjects.  INIy  Persia  and  the  Persians,  was 
sought  by  two  prominent  American  publishing  houses. 
I  gave  it  to  the  one  that  made  me  the  largest  advance  cash 
offer:  Ticknor  &  Co.  (now  Houghton  and  Mifflin)  who 
brought  it  out  beautifully.  John  Murray  also  issued  an 
edition  in  England,  where  it  was  most  favorably  received 
by  the  press. 

My  Story  of  Persia  was  published  by  Nevins  in 
London,  and  was  translated  into  two  of  the  East  Indian 
languages   and  published  at  Bombay. 

I  was  about  this  time  invited  to  resume  my  position 
as  Art-critic  to  the  Evening  Mail  and  Express,  but 
declined  it.  Innumerable  invitations  to  write  and  lecture 
came  to  me  from  different  parts  of  the  country.  Chicker- 
ing  Hall,  N.  Y.  was  packed  to  hear  a  lecture  on  Persian 
customs. 

I  published  my  Trans-Atlantic  Railzvay,  which 
caused  some  sensation,  and  some  of  its  suggestions  I  was 
told,  were  afterwards   seriously  utilized  by  engineers. 

My  story  We  Tzco  on  an  Island,  came  to  me  one 
morning  on  awakening.  I  sat  down  to  write  after  break- 
fast, and  wrote  for  two  days  Avith  little  interruptions, 
and  it  went  to  press  with  scarce  an  alteration.  When  is- 
sued in  book  form,  it  received  much  favorable  comment, 
even  from  such  slow  and  cautious  reviews  as  The  Nation, 
and  others. 

418 


]My  friend,  Richard  Stoddard  was  much  interested  to 
help  me  in  many  ways,  and  was  a  very  genuine,  kind- 
hearted  man.  The  Bowens,  of  the  Independent .  and  ]\Irs. 
Hannah  Lamb,  the  talented  editor  of  the  Historical  Maga- 
zine, and  our  Sunday  evenings  at  the  Stedman's  with  the 
delightful  people  met  there  all  lend  a  charm  to  our  mem- 
ories of  New  York. 

I  wrote  about  this  time  a  carefully  prepared  article 
on  the  Nicaragua  Canal,  at  the  request  of  the  company 
in  charge,  who  widely  distributed  it,  and  another  article 
was  written  by  me  for  the  U.  S.  Senate ;  Why  the  govern- 
ment suddenly  decided  on  the  Panama  route  as  one  of 
the  mysteries  like  that  of  the  Man  with  the  Iron  Masque, 
or  the  authorship  of  Junius. 

The  fate  of  the  American  Art  Review  is  another  ex- 
ample of  the  fact  that  literary  work  of  intrinsic  merit 
finds  scant  recognition  in  contrast  with  the  magazines 
of  fiction,  with  important  or  sensational  names,  as  con- 
tributors. For  example  I  have  been  offered  prices.,  much 
in  advance  of  those  paid  for  good  articles,  for  a  few  lines 
written  by  the  Shah  of  Persia.  About  this  time  I  bought 
a  pleasant  and  artistic  home  in  New  Brighton,  Statcn 
Island,  said  to  have  been  built  by  the  art  editor  of  Har- 
per^s  for  his  own  home.  In  the  rear  it  overlooked  the  entire 
New  York  harbor.  Wo  lived  many  years  there  very  de- 
lightfully, my  wife  identifying  herself  with  work  for 
women  and  the  "Woman's  Club,"  of  which  she  is  still 
an  honorary  member. 

While  on  the  Island  I  was  elected  President  of  the  Re- 
publican Club  of  Richmond  County.  I  had  been  a  strong 
Republican  since  the  fall  of  Sumter,  but  I  had  never 
thought  of  such  political  office,  and  did  not  care  for  this, 


4t9 


but  was  urged  into  accepting  it.  It  was  intimated  to  me 
that  Blaine  had  it  under  consideration  to  send  me  back 
to  Persia  if  I  would  approve  the  policy  he  proposed  for 
the  investment  of  American  capital  in  that  country.  I 
did  not  approve  it,  and  those  who  carried  out  his  views 
sank  a  pile  of  money.  My  experience  as  Republican  lead- 
er, leads  me  to  express,  if  possible,  more  decidedly  than 
before,  the  importance  of  reducing  the  number  of  presi- 
dential electors.  I  found  some  good  Republicans  who 
were  actuated  by  high  principle  and  genuine  patriotism, 
and  as  for  the  horde  of  petty  office  seekers,  the  feuds  and 
jealousies  found  in  political  clubs!  Well!  the  Democratic 
party  has  even  more.  One  can  say  of  our  political  par- 
ties what  the  Greek  priest  said  of  some  milk  he  saw  for 
sale,  "There  is  milk  in  it." 

One  of  the  interesting  incidents  of  our  life  on  Staten 
Island  was  the  frequent  meeting  with  George  W.  Curtis 
and  family  and  William  Winter  whom  we  know  quite  well. 
Mr.  Curtis  was  a  handsome  man  of  fine  presence  and  de- 
lightful manners.  He  liked  to  talk,  and  was  a  great 
favorite  socially. 

Another,  was  the  entertaining  in  our  home  for  two  or 
three  weeks,  of  a  Buddhist  priest,  whom  my  family  met  in 
Chicago  during  the  World's  Fair.  He  had  been  sent  as 
delegate  to  represent  the  liberal  Buddhism  of  Japan  at 
the  Parliament  of  Religions,  "Kinza  Rieuge  INIinamoto  no 
Yoshimasa  Hirai,"  was  one  of  the  most  delightful  of 
guests.  A  member  of  the  old  nobility,  his  family  had  for 
twenty-two  generations  held  exalted  positions  in  Japan, 
and  his  manners  betokened  the  highest  breeding.  We  gave 
him  a  dinner,  inviting  Archdeacon  Johnson  of  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  Staten  Island ;  Dr.  G.  W.  Birch,  Presby- 


420 


terian  of  New  York  City  (moderator  of  the  convention 
that  tried  Dr.  Briggs  for  heresy)  ;  Dr.  Bowles,  leader  of 
the  Universalist  Church  of  New  York,  and  others,  quite 
a  "Parliament  of  Religions"  in  miniature. 

During  these  exceedingly  busy  years  I  entered  into  a 
partnership  with  a  well  known  professor  of  a  well  known 
university,  to  prepare  a  concise,  popular  encyclopedia 
on  a  novel  plan.  The  enterprise  dragged  somewhat,  as 
we  lived  in  separate  towns,  and  the  divided  responsibility 
became  somewhat  irksome  as  the  literary  strain  of  the 
last  few  years  began  to  tell  on  my  health ;  I  decided  to 
sell  out  my  rights  and  good  will  to  him,  which  I  did  for  a 
good  price. 

This  was  a  help  to  me  at  the  time,  as  money  advanced 
to  aid  a  family  friend  had  brought  on  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties and  debts  which  troubled  me.  I  had  been  made 
poorer  by  over  $20,000  through  my  desire  to  aid  others. 
But  my  accumulated  efforts  and  struggles  finally  brought 
me  to  a  point  where  changes  and  rest,  became  imperative. 
A  severe  attack  of  acute  bronchitis,  complicated  with 
pneumonia,  did  not  quite  kill  me,  but  it  forced  me  to  leave 
the  island,  and  eventually  New  York  climate  altogether. 

We  secured  a  charming  place  on  Lake  Champlain  for 
our  summer  home,  and  bought  a  house  in  Washington, 
D.  C.  to  live  in  winters. 

Washington  as  a  home,  never  specially  appealed  to  me 
except  for  the  cosmopolitan  atmosphere  its  social  life 
engendered.  My  wife  had  a  delightful  acquaintance  there 
and  warm  friends  having  passed  so  man}^  winters  of  her 
life,  in  its  official  social  circles. 

There  was  little  art  interest  to  speak  of,  though  a  few 
good  artists.     I  had  seen  enough  of  political  life  in  and 


421 


about  New  York;  and  my  experience  as  presiding  officer 
the  year  of  the  presidential  election  had  quite  satisfied 
me  with  American  politics.  The  capital  city  had  there- 
fore no  attraction  in  that  line ;  it  had,  however^  a  good 
climate  and  good  markets,  and  I  needed  a  change  and  a 
rest  from  thinking  and  working  over  much. 

Several  opportunities  were  offered  me  later  on,  for  re- 
turning to  the  East  either  in  diplomacy  or  business,  all 
of  which  I  declined.  Before  the  establishment  of  the  Per- 
sian legation  in  this  country,  while  living  in  New  York, 
I  was  approached  by  one  very  well  known,  with  the  sug- 
gestion that  the  government  of  the  Shah  had  intimated 
that  I  might  be  called  to  represent  Persia  at  the  United 
States,  if  I  would  consent  to  take  such  position.  Upon 
due  consideration,  although  highly  pleased  with  the  com- 
pliment I  thought  it  best  to  decline.  In  point  of  fact 
I  had  lost  so  much  pecuniarily,  by  my  experience  in 
diplomacy  I  had  been  more  or  less  embarrassed  ever  since, 
aside  from  the  fact  that  it  took  me  from  my  legitimate 
work. 

So  far  as  trade  with  Persia  was  concerned,  steam  and 
electric  railroads  there,  were  of  the  first  importance,  but 
they  are  not  likely  to  be  profitable  until  the  population 
is  greatly  increased.  Local  travel  and  freight  implies 
people.  Our  distinguished  citizen,  Theodore  Roosevelt, 
ought  to  have  been  sent  out  to  expostulate  in  regard  to 
the  small  families,  although  his  eloquent  pleas  do  not 
seem  to  bear  abundant  fruit  here  as  yet.  Persia  has  an 
area  larger  than  France,  Germany  and  Spain  altogether, 
and  has  barely  nine  million  of  souls. 

My  opinion  is  that  so  long  as  the  Anglo-Russo-Germanic 
rivalry  and  disturbances  continue  in  Central  Asia,  Uncle 


422 


Sam  can  do  more  in  extending  his  trade  in  China,  the 
Philippines  and  South  America,  and  allowing  longer 
credits  to   foreign   merchants   where  it   is   demanded. 

Germany  is  working  her  way  with  her  railways  and  her 
traffic  from  the  west  eastward,  while  Russia  has  a  dog-in- 
the-manger  way  of  approaching  Persia,  her  bayonets 
gleam,  ever  reaching  over  the  border. 

With  Russia  this  system  of  conquest  is  chronic,  and 
includes  in  its  schemes,  about  every  inch  of  Asia,  except, 
possibly,  Japan.  And  so  the  Slavic  race-ideal  in  Asia 
and  the  Teutonic  in  Europe  must  some  day  meet  and 
clash.  The  mystic  God  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  Kaiser's 
God  of  Force  will  both  be  called  upon  for  aid  and  the 
result.^  Quin  Sabe!  ^lay  it  not  be  possible  that  some 
world-war  will  realize  the  prediction  of  ancient  prophecy 
in  no  very  distant  future.''  Even  now  a  great  conflict 
is  simmering.!  The  Kaiser  cannot  long  resist  the  pull  of 
the  German  military  autocracy,  and  will  call  (as  Victor 
Hugo  did  for  the  French)  on  "the  world"  to  come  to 
the  aid  of  his  country  as  "the  centre  and  hub  of  culture 
and  civilization";  and  yet,  had  Hugo  read  Philip  de 
Commines,  he  would  have  learned  that  "the  French  were 
more  cruel  in  war  than  the  people  of  Italy  or  Spain." 
How  if  the  Kaiser  should  read  history  with  a  better  under- 
standing? The  hypocrisy  of  nations  is  prover})ial ;  each 
looks  with  horror  on  the  doings  of  the  others,  failing  to 
see  the  obliquities  in  their  own  conduct. 

Of  old,  Tacitus  alludes  to  this,  in  writing  of  the  Romans 
and  the  Parthians. 

The  present  German  idea  of  world-domination  for  state, 
military,  and  scientific  efficiency  and  force,  will  inevitalily 
in  time,  sweep  Germany  into  war  with  nations  who  favor 


423 


the  peace-idea,  arbitration  and  treaties.  The  Teutonic 
ideal  to  succeed,  must  "down"  all  other  ideals ;  This,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  writer,  will  never  be  accomplished. 

The  great  World  Spirit  which  is  above  all  world  forces, 
and  which  will  doubtless  be  appealed  to,  by  both  Czar  and 
Kaiser,  may  surprise  the  nations,  by  revealing  how  the 
deep  forces  of  spirit,  can  control  all  human  material 
struggle,  and  imperfection,  toward  ultimate  ends,  not 
dreamed  of;  toward  some  higher  ideal  of  better  economic, 
political,  and  psychological  conditions,  thus  preserving  a 
righteous  balance  between  the  rights  of  individuals,  and 
the  rights  of  state,  and  the  rights  of  one  state  as  bear- 
ing on  the  rights  of  all  states.     Nous  verrons! 

******* 

I  am  spending  my  last  days  in  the  university  town  of 
Burlington,  Vermont,  a  State  I  have  always  been  attracted 
to  since  my  first  college  tramps  among  its  beautiful  hills. 
I  have  much  time  in  this  quiet  home  to  study  the  deeper 
questions  I  have  only  touched  upon,  in  these  pages.  Now, 
more  than  ever  in  history,  do  they  engross  the  attention 
of  sentient  beings ;  the  flippancy  with  which  they  are 
often  discussed  (as  if  the  speaker  had  some  key  to  t-he 
insoluble  mysteries)  is  often  unspeakably  irritating. 
The  more  one  sees  of  life,  the  less  does  he  in  very 
truth  know  about  it ;  we  can  only  breathe  with  profound 
reverence,  "Wait !"  some  where,  some  time,  the  light  of 
revelation  may  dawn  upon  us,  faintly  at  first,  for  the  soul 
that  would  all  at  once  see  wholly,  must  be  consumed  by 
the  Glory  that  comes  from  LIGHT  UNSPEAKABLE! 


424 


"A  VISION  OF  ETERNITY." 

Poem  by  S.  G.  W.  Benjamin,  shown  his  wife  about  a 
month  before  his  death,  July  19,  IQIJ*.  (Probably  written 
some  time  before). 

A  youth  came  down  unto  the  sea  and  bathes 

The  shores  of  time;  (a  youth,  as  age  is  marked 

In  heavenly  spheres).     His  eyes,  from  watching  long 

The  sufferings  of  mortality,  were  dim. 

And  his  pale  cheeks  were  haggard  from  the  pang, 

Of  keen  disappointment,  unavailing  grief, 

And  a  weird  and  restless  longing  for  repose. 

He  stood  upon  a  beetling  cliff,  and  gazed  on  the  mysterious 

ocean  with  a  look 
Intense,  as  he  would  pierce  the  encircling  mists 
That  overhang  the  vast  Unknown  from  whence 
The  sea's  low  moanings  faintly  reached  his  ear ; 
And  then  he  sighed,    "Oh  death,  in  former  years 
A  hideous  phantom,  now  ni}^  dearest  friend. 
My  brother !  guide  me  to  eternity ; 
Release  my  spirit  from  these  gyves  of  clay 
That  weight  it  down  with  pain,  and  when  it  most 
Aspires   to   soar  toward   heaven,   do   bind   its   wings    with 

selfish   aims,"        ******** 
********** 

*       *       *       *       The  mist  now  seemed  to  break. 
And  at  his  side  an  angel  form  appeared, 
Majestic,  garmented  in  light  with  eyes 
That  beamed  a  tender  radiance; 

425 


She  touched  his  eyelids ;  then  thick  darkness  veiled 
His  vision  for  a  moment,  and  a  spasm 
Oonvulsed  his  shivering  frame  with  agony — 
Only  a  moment;  for  returning  light 
Dazzled  his  sight,  and  from  his  spirit  fell 
The  fleshy  robe  of  earth's  infirmities. 
His  soul  stood  forth  upon  that  solemn  strand 
Free,  pure,  and  wonderful,  as  when  it  left 
Its  Maker's  hands  in  the  aeons  of  the  past. 
By  this  a  skiff  came  gliding  to  the  shore 
jNIore  beautifully  formed  than  fairy's  boat 
Of  curling  shell,  and  delicately  veined 
With  pearl  and  purple  (as  the  eyelid  soft 
Of  sleeping  infant)   and  the  youth  began 
The  voyage  infinite.     The  sliding  keel 
Swifter    than    lightning    flew,    moved    by    the    soul's    un- 
quenchable desire  to  see,  to  learn. 
To  understand  the  boundless  universe,  and  its  Creator. 
Isles  of  light  arose 

Innumerably  to  view.    Upon  their  shores 
Seraphs  were  marshalled,  and  from  star  to  star. 
From  age  to  age  celestial  anthems  pealed 
Creation  heard  that  harmony  divine — - 
A  rapturous  hallelujah  that  shall  cease 
When  dim  eternity  shall  end. 
Cycles  and  ages  had  gone  by;  (if  there 
They  note  such  periods ;)  and  still  the  skiff  swept  on 
Its  steady  course  swift  as  the  flight  of  thought, 
And  silent  as  the  lapse  of  years.    The  youth's 
Fair  brow  with  growing  knowledge  grew  more  noble. 
And  his  eyes  kindled  with  the  fervid  glow 
That  to  his  vision  gradually  increased 


426 


Like  the  broad  splendor  of  the  summer  dawn, 
Albeit  the  glor}^  of  a  thousand  suns 
Were  but  a  taper's  twinkle  to  the  light 
Ineffable   that  issued   from   the   throne 
Of  God,  the  center  of  infinity.        ****** 
******** 

*       *       *       *     ^,g  yg|-  ^]-,js  sQ^i  \^n^(\  only  dimly  caught 

Faint  adumbrations  of  the  majesty 

And  glory  of  celestial  life.     But  time, 

Ages  on  ages,  came  and  went.     That  spirit 

Had  reached  a  higher  being,  and  had  gained 

The  stature  of  archangel.    Now,  it  felt 

(Not  only  saw)   the  Universe,  Oh  now 

The  recollection  of  the  agonies 

Of  his  mortality,  the  burning  brain. 

The  racking  pains,  and  the  cankering  grief, 

Sorrows   of  brief  duration  to  the  bliss 

Serene,  he  now  experienced,  lent  a  peace 

Unutterable  by  contrast.     Now,  he  knew 

The  mystery  of  affliction — knew  that  woe 

Is  mercy's  boon,  and  that  one  day  of  grief 

May  gladden  ages  of  eternity. 

Gratitude,  love,  and  adoration  filled 

That  huml>le,  raptured  soul.     The  Deity 

Transfused  his  throbbing  bosom  with  a  power 

To  love,  which  may  be  never,  never  told. 

Unless  by  lips  seraphic,  numberless. 

And  evermore  ^abrating  harps  of  gold. 

And  wings  that  upwards  waft  the  triune  hymn 

To  the  exalted  and  eternal  throne 

Where  God  Himself  reveals  the  ETERNAL  GOOD. 

Published  in  Burlington  Free  Press, 
Saturday,  Aug.  1st. 

427 


Partial  list  of  the  paintings  of  S.  G.  W.  Benjamin  from  June 
1871.     Sold  at  prices  ranging  from  $60  to  $600. 

Topsail  Schooner — Size  20  in.  by  12. 

Sloop  runing  down  the  coasts — 10  in.  by  16. 

Oxitivard  Bound — 16  in.  by  10. 

Outivard  Bound — larger  copy — 16  in.  by  26. 

Sloop  Yacht  before  the  wind — 7  in.  by  10. 

Shore  Scene — 9  in.  by  4. 

Bankers — 20  in.  by  12. 

Corsica — 10  in.  by  7. 

Corsica — larger  copy — 16  in.  by  10. 

Yachting — 30  in.  by  20. 

Schooner  Yacht  Ella— 20  in.  by  12. 

Ship  anchoring  in  Smyrna  harbor — 36  in.  by  24. 

Bark  running  down  schooner  in  a  fog. 

Pico  Peak  with  bark  running — 20  in.  by  12. 

Pico  Peak  and  San  Jorge — 12  in.  by  7. 

Pico  Peak  and  San  Jorge — 30  in.  by  18. 

Gibraltar — 15  in.  by  30. 

Seminot,  Isle  of  Wight — 10  in.  by  7. 

Atalaya  Rock — Madeira — 24  in.  by  18. 

Pico  Peak  from  Sou'west — 20  in.  by  12. 

Gale  off  Rosales  Rock-Azores — 26  in.  by  18. 

Panto  Forado — Madeira — 12  in.  by  7. 

Atalaya  Rock — 30  in.  by  20. 

Foul  Weather  off  Ponto  Forado — 26  in.  by  16. 

Off  Cape  Race— 24:  in.  by  16. 

Bugio  Island  with  bark — 20  in.  by  12. 

Making  Land — 36  in.  by  24. 

A  Stiff  Breeze— 10  in.  by  16. 

Full  rigged  brig,  running  under  close  reefed  topsails — 12  in.  by  7. 

Off  Cape  Race — Schooner  running— lli/o  in.  by  714. 

Baker's  Island  Lights — 12  in.  by  7. 

Entrance  to  St.  John's — 12  in.  by  7. 

Porto  da  Cruz — Madeira — 50  in.  by  26. 

Sunset  at  Nassau — 9  in.  by  18. 

Penha  d'  Aquia — Madeira — 40  in.  by  24. 

Study  of  Spay — 10  in.  by  16. 

Stormy  Sunset  at  Sea — 10  in.  by  16. 

Calm  Day  off  Manchester — 30  in.  by  18. 

Fishing  boats  of  Madeira  Scurrying  home — 8  in.  by  12. 

Volcanic  Rocks — Madeira — 12  in.  by  20. 

Barque  Ethan  Allen — 20  in.  by  12. 

Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave^Seaman  on  a  raft — 18  in.  by  26. 

Calm  day  off  Manchester — 8i^  in.  by  14. 

Caught  on  a  Lee  Shore — 30  in.  by  18. 

428 


Home  of  the  Sea  bir-ds — 20  in.  by  12. 

Courtado  Peak — 18  in.  by  12. 

Brazen  Head  and  Fort  Santiago — 20  in.  by  12. 

Pleasant  Day  at  Sea — 11  in.  by  7. 

CoaM  Scene — Madeira — 30  in.  by  18. 

Sunset  at  Sea — 5  in.  by  10. 

A  Fresh  Puff  off  the  land— 20  in.  by  12. 

Early  Morning  at  Sea — 8  in.  by  12. 

Surf  among  the  Rocks — San  Tincent — 30  in.  by  18. 

Thatcher's  Island — 7  in.  by  14. 

Low  Tide  at  Grcenhithe — 7  in.  by  10. 

Sunset  on  the  Grand  Banks — 10  in.  by  5. 

A  Squally  Sunrise — 7  in.  by  5. 

Faial  Beach — Madeira — 6  in.  by  13. 

Faial  Beach — Madeira — 24  in.  by  16. 

Fishing  Boats  of  Porto  Santo — 14  in.  by  7. 

A  Squall— 2(y  in.  by  20. 

Daivn  off  White  Island — 24  in.  by  16. 

Old  Convent  Orotava—Tetieriffe — 13  in.  by  7. 

Wind  against  Tide  off  Entry  Isle — 26  in.  by  18. 

Pico  Peak  and  San  Jorge — 30  in.  by  18. 

Loo  Rock — Madeira — 30  in.  by  18. 

The  Farm — Landscape — 40  in.  by  27. 

Life — Shipwrecked  Sailor  on  rock — 20  in.  by  10. 

Pico  Peak,  Azores — Sunset — 12  in.  by  20. 

Pico  Peak — Cutter  Yawl  in  foreground — 12  in.  by  20. 

"The  Wide,  Wide,  Sea"— 24  in.  by  40. 

A  Head  Sea— 18  in.  by  30. 

French  Fishing  Lugger — 10  in.  by  14. 

Noi'th  Foreland — Straits  Dover — 11%  in.  by  ^Va- 

The  Corbiere  or  Sailors  Dead — Isle  of  Jersey — 26  in.  by  50. 

After  the  Storm — 18  in.  by  30. 

Twilight  at  Sea— 18  in.  by  30. 

Among  the  Breakers — 18  in.  by  30. 

A  Summer  Breeze — 9  in.  by  14. 

Cutter  running  before  a  Squall — 6  in.  by  10. 

Tiviliglit  on  the  Grand  Banks — 36  in.  by  60. 

Cape  Cap  au  Meule — 9  in.  by  13. 

Yachts  Struck  by  a  Squall — 27  in.  by  41. 

A  Breeze  Coming — 18  in.  by  30. 

A  Sunset — Small. 

A  Fresh  Breeze— IG  in.  by  26. 

OivVs  Head — Penobscot  Bay — 12  in.  by  20. 

A  Westerly  Gale  on  the  Atlantic — 12  in.  by  20. 

Shark's  Nose — Maine  Coast — 12  in.  by  20. 

Entering  Port — 20  in.  by  26. 

Among  the  Breakers — replica — 24  in.  by  40. 

Off  the  Harbor  Mouth— 2i  in.  by  40. 


429 


In  the  Roaring  Forties — 36  in.  by  60. 

A  Pleasant  Outlook — Small. 

Home  of  the  Sea-birds — replica. 

A  Schooner  Yacht  before  the  Wind — 7  in.  by  12. 

Reef  and  Lighthonse  off  Barnegat. 

A  Stormy  Sunrise  off  House  Isle — 18  in.  by  30. 

Clearing  Weather — 24  in.  by  40. 

Rtinning  into  Port — Moonlight — 20  in.  by  12. 

The  Gloiv  of  Evening — Small. 

A  Cutter  and  a  Breeze — 10  in.  by  10. 

Penha  d'Aguia — Madeira — 18  in.  by  30. 

Running  before  a  SoiCivester — 60  in.  by  36. 

A  Breezy  Afternoon — 18  in.  by  30. 

A  Threatening  Sunset — 18  in.  by  32. 

Pilot    boat   cruising   in   foul   weather — Small. 

Moonlight  night  at  Sea — Small. 

Surf  on  Coast  of  Madeira — Small. 

Summer  Stinset  on  the  Sound — Small. 

Brig  Becalmed  off  Isle  of  Shoals — 20  in.  by  12. 

Sloop  running  under  reefs — 18  in.  by  12. 

Peace  after  the  Storm — water  color. 

Sloop  becalmed  in  Neto  York  Bay — water  color. 

Tug  Toiving  Derelict — 24  in.  by  16. 

A  Harbor  Scene. 

Surf  Wave — 14  in.  by  22. 

Market  Fishing  Boat — Moonlight — 14  in.  by  18. 

Barkentine  before  a  gale — 20  in.  by  12. 

A  Calm  Day  in  Mediterranean. 

On  the  Jersey  Shore — Sm-f  scene— ^0  in.  by  11%. 

A  Moonlight. 

A   Threatening  Sunset. 

Coast  Scene. 

A  Calm  Evening. 

A'Spanish  Slaver  overbauled  by  American  cruiser  in  the  "forties' 

off  Coast  of  Africa— 28  in.  by  18. 
A  Freshening  Breeze — 20  in.  by  12. 
Reflections  of  Sunset — water  color. 
The  Lotus  Eaters — 40  in.  by  24. 
Abandoned — 20  in.  by  18. 
Surf  dashing  on  rocks — 18%  in.  by  11%. 
A  Squally  Afternoon — 14  in.  by  10. 
Rock  and  Surf  Scene — Small. 
Night  Scene — Fire  on  Cliff — Small. 
Beach  at  San  Vincinte — Madeira — water  color. 
Yacht  Race — 8  in.  by  12. 
Old  Convent  Orotava — 30  in.  by  15. 


430 


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